The Art of Conquering
by emeraldcarrot
Summary: Britain shoots America in Yorktown and keeps him for himself, but the trauma of being betrayed by the only person who loved him drives him mad. He grows into a tyrant and the most expansive of the four major empires controlling the world but not everyone wants to become British territory and begin preparing for war. Yet America is torn: His duty or his dream?
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Hetalia its themes nor characters.**

* * *

_The Empire On Which The Sun Never Sets..._

-1783-

"Britain"

Filled with an unknown longing, thrown into a trance, surged with fury, with frustration...with fear.

With each clap of thunder, he sensed the retribution, the upheaval against the _injustice, _as it was called.

With each flash across the sky he remembered. The words that graced the parchment, scribbled down illuminating his reasons. Those words; those cruel, heart wrenching words from that letter; that _Declaration of Independence_.

The haunting words for which he prayed were only a jest; the malicious prank of a child too young to know what he meant; too young to know what he wanted.

_"When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal stations to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation..." _

So many times he read those words, and each time unable to contain his emotions, even before the king.

Why?

Why had it been _him_?

Why not any of the others? Why did he care so much about him? This one specific colony across the ocean?

He had others, so many others...

But this one was different.

He adorned this one the most.

So why? Why had he not come and spoken to him about the unhappiness he felt?

Did he hate him? Detest him? Despise him so much that he could not even give a word to him about his feelings?

Did he want to spite him so badly that he would go and start a war? And send him such a wretched letter?

With each drop of water settling into the earth, he remembered the sunny days; filled with laughter and joy. Days of promises, of never ending bliss, days when he was happy.

Days spent with his beloved little brother.

"All I want is my freedom! I'm not a child anymore, nor am I you're little brother!" He shouted. The voice of his beloved opponent called from across the wet field. A voice that struck him, scared him, left him cold and barren, lifeless, as if his heart had been ripped from his body, and stopped by the plague. His voice tinged with anger and frustration; with hatred directed at straight him.

"From now on, I am _Independent!_"

No.

No.

He would not allow this. He would _never _allow this. He had to stop this; stop him from making a decision that he would regret. He knew nothing. Nothing about independence. Nothing about running a country. He knew nothing about the ways of world; this was going to end.

He was going to stop it.

With the intent to kill; the merciless, cold blooded, cruel way his empire was known for, he took action, charging at his colony, musket in hand, prepared to strike him down, stop him at all cost. He would not allow this to happen-he would not allow his colony to be independent. He would never let him go.

Although the colony tried to defend himself, tried to block him, tried to fight back, his own weapon was torn from his arms, tossed mercilessly into the air and thrown to the ground unable to avoid receiving a large , gaping scar across the bottom.

The colony, although not alone; found himself helpless against the great nation, staring down the barrel of the gun into the eyes of the man who raised him.

"You fool!" He panted. tightening his hold, grasping unto the weapon for dear life itself as his heart beat increased, rapidly beating, pushing the blood into his veins, giving him his only sign of living, his awareness of life.

"Why?" He began. He needed answers, demanded answers. " Why can't you follow anything through to the end!"

The colony did not answer. Only continued to stare, his men ready, and willing to shoot his mentor on sight.

However he did not move, the older nation was...hesitant.

_'I cant...I can't, there's no way I can shoot him' _

His arm began to grow weak; his stomach turned at the thought of killing him; not him. Not his precious little brother.

But...

What would the others think? What would his other colonies do? If they get wind of it; him letting this happen, letting this colony free...

Would they also rebel?

Would they also leave him?

Would they, as well, want their independence?

What about his goal-his goal of world domination?

Why has he allowed this to go on for so long? Why did he have to make such a choice?

His compassion? Or his pride?

And what of this colony? This tiny divided colony? Could it stand on its own?

Could he really be independent?

Lowering his musket; the nation stared down his colony. He couldn't...

He just couldn't do it...

He couldn't let him go. Not now. Not ever.

With a simple click, he shot a bullet-a single bullet into the chest of the man before him. In shock; the young man stared at his care giver, his vision fading to black, as white and blue stained red...

...

* * *

Thank you for reading.

I hope you enjoyed!

Please, if you have any suggestions, comments, or concerns do not hesitate to tell me!

Bye Bye For now!


	2. Chapter 2

-1840s-

Memories.

Bitter sweet memories of years long past; vivid, vibrate dreams of a dark era, times of cruel heart breaking revolutions, times of soul shattering revelations, times that could change a man forever...

But it was a dream, wasn't it?

He had that dream again. And it was only a dream.

That dream; the dream that forced him to remember times that were different, forced him to recall a time when his empire nearly slipped away, times of which he was weak, when he nearly allowed his emotions to take control over his actions.

However, despite that he made a name for himself.

By that one need everyone would know, and everyone would fear him.

It was a shot heard around the world.

He shot down his colony, so that his others would know, he squashed a rebellion so on looking countries would know; it was a forewarning: the British Empire was not to be trifled with.

The American colony learned that the hard way and the rest of the world found out by watching.

He would not be defeated.

...

"General"

A knock on the large wooden door stirred him from a light slumber. Slowly eye lids lifted, revealing orbs of bright green forever shaded by stalks of gold colored hair. Lazily, he brushed his bangs aside and only to be assaulted by the sun's blinding rays from the large uncovered window beside him.

Had he really fallen asleep? At this table? He was supposed to have been relaxing latent with a lovely book authored by an English poet and a cup of his favorite tea, now gone cold, not napping! He'd been expecting company and Arthur had to be dignified, not half asleep.

Of course fighting the Spanish Armada over the past few years contributed to his current state but the war was well worth it, he'd finally he gotten that fool Antonio down to his last leg!

With the state of the economy in France being as it was, very poor, that damn frog would soon be forced to pull out of the war leaving Spain, and the Spanish territories, for himself. Allowing him to take yet another corner of the globe.

"Yes, you may enter." With a small sign the country stood. He folded his arms over his scarlet uniform and stared at the opening door unfazed.

A soldier stepped into the large room adorned with spoils of war, gold and silver, exotic whines and clothing, weaponry, gifts from allied countries, plunder from his pirating days, archaic texts and items, books piled high against the walls, fine china, impressive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and various other wonders, but most prominently there were maps.

The country had tens of maps lingering about his room, detailing moments of time, trading routs, places of battles and maps of his colonies. Many new and painted vibrantly with colors and detailed, others old and crumpled. There were large ones, small ones, maps of the world, maps of his homeland, a number of globes, even one painted across the large marbled floor. Each map was different than the next.

Although it was full of belongings never used, there was a simplistic organized chaos to everything.

"Yes? Did you need something?" Stationed near his window, Arthur had a small table set and although he spent many hours alone he still had two chairs set perfectly opposite one another. The set was actually a gift from one of his colonies, he had forgotten which, but it was lovely enough to place in his quarters. Like many of the items, it remained unused for some time.

"Yes sir" The solider stood at attention. "The representative of China has arrived, he is awaiting you in the congressional hall."

"Ah, thank you. I'll be with him now." Arthur glanced at himself in one of his many mirrors, only after being sure he looked dignified did he stride out of his room and past the soldier who followed him not too many paces behind. After a few short moments of walking down lavish halls, Arthur opened the door to a room which also had many maps.

It was bright from the open window and fairly large to accommodate the usual many people who frequently met. However sitting at a table now there was only one. Already having been served tea, sat Yao a fellow country personification and his greatest, if not only, ally.

"My apologies for making you wait. I trust your trip was pleasant? " Arthur greeted, standing before him the blond gave a slight bow attempting to be polite to his guest.

"Ni hao, the trip was very nice-aru" The man smiled, setting down his tea and returning Arthur's gesture of politeness before clearing his throat.

He and Arthur have been allies for a number of years. Originally his emperor convinced Yao to become friends with the westerner due to British rule spreading throughout the world at a quick pace however, he found himself actually enjoying the companionship of the other nation. The British government has proven to be very beneficial to China.

The British Empire was his country's largest trading partner, its militia, being the best in the world, always supported China in war and battles, Arthur had even allowed Yao title over most of Asian lands he conquered; 'I could not possibly take care of them all it's too much of a bother. You can watch over them for me I've hundreds of colonies.' In exchange for his good will and friendship, China always fought alongside the empire in the various wars its fault (which was a surprising lot). The two have been allied for little over 50 years and it is remarkable how quickly things have changed.

"Before I forget, my emperor sent gifts to the queen. They were large golden statues, very nice-aru."

"Is that so? We must send him something in return, I'll remind her." Arthur poured himself a cup of hot tea after sitting down. It was of Asian origin, but delicious all the same.

"Well yes that would be pleasing, he really does like gifts-aru"

"I would imagine we all do" Setting down his cup, Arthur fixated on the other country who too was exceedingly powerful. Secretly the empire was in high spirits when China to become allies. Most countries who remained independent of his power hated him, and he never needed friends so making allies was not something he himself was good at.

"So, you wanted to discuss something rather important did you not China?"

"Yes." The nation turned to the largest map in the room which, in scattered pieces, at least one third was painted red symbolizing the empires territories or colonies. "You are now in control of a third of the world-aru" He pointed out. "Now, I am aiding you in the battle against Spain where afterwards you will own this." He pressed his finger against a small portion of the map where Spain was shown. "Southern Italy will also be under you're control as well as parts of South America afterwards-aru."

"Yes, and with my American territory expanding westward I'm gaining more parts of North America." Arthur leaned over supporting his weight upon his elbows as he listened to the Chinese man speak.

"Right-aru. With the impending victory over Spain, I would imagine the British empire to gain control over the entirety of North America soon afterwards...between the four of us, you have the most land..." He nodded. He was well aware of who 'us' was. Himself, China, Russia, and the Ottoman Empire, the major empires of the world.

" I must admit that Mexico has been giving my American colony trouble for mine pressing him to expand but I believe I see you're point. After Spain falls, not only will I receive the other portion of Italy, but his territories in South America. However, forgive my asking, but why bring this particular subject matter up? I've considered this before it was my reasoning for officially declaring war on Spain."

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. Yao stared into the eyes of his comrade slowly he began to speak:

"China has sent many soldiers to battle, although war with Spain has no direct impact on me or my people the Spanish army is powerful-aru. We do not like to make so many...sacrifices for nothing-aru."

"I see then...you _want _something from me." Sitting back in his chair, Arthur crossed his arms over his chest.

This was a position he'd been in many times before, often he's been asked for things but Arthur was, adamantly, selfish. Perhaps it came from from his long years spent as a pirate, or perhaps his strong belief in hard work but he hated to just _give_to people, epically those who were undeserving. Nevertheless he would often times demand things of others, mostly colonies or those weaker than him. For as much as he hated giving, he loved to receive.

He loved to acquire things from richest to territory. Its never been enough for him to have few, what he aimed for was to have everything.

What he aimed for was world domination.

The world was his, it just hadn't come to that realization yet.

Soon Spain will fall and he will conquer it. He owned the majority of North America: Canada and his, what was it now? 27 unified American States? He was certain there were 27 of what once was 13 colonies. Mexico wouldn't be difficult, having just declared independence from Spain no more than 20 years ago, it was a new nation, a _weaker_nation that he would have soon enough, it wasn't a large concern of his. He controlled south American islands, and countries there once claimed by Spain, many parts of Europe were in his hands as well. He controlled Ireland, Scotland, Wales; his brothers. His brothers now bowed to him! They were under his control, his to do with as he pleased, his to lock away and never see again.

Soon he will shut down the only major power opposing him: France. However that could wait. He was saving France, _saving_him for last. He wanted to watch him suffer as he witnessed the fall of everyone before him. He wanted to break him, he needed to _hurt_ him before he would finally become his. His to do with as he pleased.

Normally, this would be the time in which he denied claims and shooed the beggar from his home. However this was a sensitive situation, this was his ally, not a mere colony or enemy nation. Thus he would hear China out and carefully choose the correct actions for the situation. "I am listening. Go on."

"I want but one thing..." The man pointed, a small island off the coast of his own home was what he pointed too. "This. I want Japan. Not only in title, but in sovereignty. I wish for you to help me get him-aru..."

Arthur smirked. He nearly let out a laugh. Japan? Is that what he wanted?

"I see. Why Japan? It's such a tiny little country, I thought you would ask for something of mine. Such as India, or my German States, granted those are rather unstable..." He trailed off.

"Japan is very...special to me." He began, the Asian man before him smiled, a sweet, endearing smile seemingly sparked by a secret emotion that only China himself could understand.

"I like to think of Japan as a younger brother. The rest of my family you have given to me, I am grateful for that, however I want to have Japan living with us as well-aru." He explained.

"Why don't you reason with him? I'm sure he is an understanding man and no other Asian nation has been able to..._resist_ being your territory." He smirked. "Japan should see that he has no choice in the matter, the world should have seen that..." China nodded, however he sighed. Placing a hand on his hip, in a way that Arthur could only describe as _sassy,_he continued.

"Japan has been in isolation for a very long time-aru. He won't let me in."

"So, you want to take him by means of force then?"

China nodded. The man cared little if at all about western countries or affairs. He's traveled the world and seen everything it had to offer long years before Arthur himself had.

He was much older than any nation or kingdom he knew and his interest in world domination seemed nonexistent (making him the perfect ally for Arthur who wanted nothing but). The man before him seemed only to care about his family, who, over time, had spread out, away from him. He wanted Japan, and would take him. However, why did he need Arthurs support?

"Why do you need me to help you?"

"Because he is much stronger than he looks." China began. "And I do not want to expend extra time or energy..."

"Why not have you're territories aid you? Not that I won't, I am not opposed to the idea, however I am simply curious now"

The Asian country smirked. Did he not see? Not Understand? He had and has been doing the same!

"The same reason you do not send your colonies off the war" He told. For some reason or another the young empire never made his colonies fight a war with him. Yao never knew the exact reason why, however his statement seemed appropriate for the time. In truth, his own reasoning was simple: He wanted nothing more than to take care of his family not send off into a war. Arthur's however he did not know.

The blond nation smirked, and with a small nod began to formulate his response.

"That is a well enough answer for me. I shall assist you. I can have troops prepared by the end of the month if need be, perhaps sooner if that is your incentive"

"Very well then..." Yao began, "This reminds me! I heard a rumor on my way here.."

...

Far across the English Chanel circumstances were not peaceful. Families broken, houses torn apart, and burning everything was burning. The land, the sky; it was all covered in flames. The flames of revolution consumed the land, scorching it, tearing it, and breaking it apart.

A man, broad in shoulders and serious in expression stood. Blood pouring from his fresh wounds and spilling unto the open soil and yet he smiled.

Finally. He'd made it. He was in France. Free territory.

His body hurt from the insurrection, British soldiers had not given into the demands of his people, they beat the citizens back using every cruel method of which the British Empire had been known for. It was not a full on revolution, just isolated revolts of his people so there was no reason to use such _force._His blood, the blood of his people, of his people did not need to be shed. His people were suffering, they'd been oppressed and he felt their pain. The pain of each soul, hurt, alone and crying out to be saved. Their blood washed over him like a wave as it spilled and ran. It tore his body apart. Every inch of him burned with pain however he dragged himself on knowing that he needed to save his people.

He forced his body to make it. Fighting with everything he had, hiding, running, fighting. He needed to escape. He had to escape his own land to make it to freedom. He needed to cross the border and make it to France.

Francis's house was the final strong hold; the only country left who openly, and bluntly, defied British rule. Many other countries tried to be neutral, seeing what has occurred to many other nations and not wanting the same fate to befall them.

However many were not so lucky: Austria, Hungary, Poland, himself, Italy, and most recently Spain, many of this neighbors and allies have fallen to the cruelty of the British Empire.

France was the only safe haven for those lucky enough to have escaped. Neutral counties either did not aid refugees, in fear of England's wrath, or passively defied him by allowing refugees into their countries without care. However France was the only place he knew that welcomed them with open arms, with promises of safely and comfort. Unfortunately, however the country of love became crowed with immigrants and runaways. The streets were littered with the homeless and the hungry. Men, woman, children, all looking for a better life in France were now starving and begging. Families of men who joined the army were given priority care and woman were now among the work force. Shelters and orphanages were full to capacity and farmers could not supply to demands of the people. The economy was unstable at best, and Francis was unwell. The man may not be able to support a full scale war against England.

But Ludwig had a plan.

He only prayed that Francis would hear him out...

...

* * *

Thank you for reading!

For those of you wondering, this is an AU story, however there will be many historical facts and such (some will be adjusted to fit the story)

I set the story in the 1840s because I still wanted it to have an _old time_feel.

most importantly, there were a lot interesting things happened around the world in this decade:

Some important ones include:

Mexican-American War (in which America annexed Texas, and gained portions other territories)

First Opium War between China and Britain expanded into this decade (leading to Britain taking Hong Kong)

Waves of Revolutions in Europe. (Collectively known as the Revolution of 1848)

Treaty of Waitangi (in which new Zealand become a British Colony)

Webster-Ashburton Treaty (in which America and Canada settled the dispute over boarders)

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels write _The Communist Manifesto_,

In the mid 1840s several harvests failed across Europe, which caused famines (most famous the Great Irish Famine)

The California Gold Rush (in America)

I hope you enjoyed the story! Bye Bye for now!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia its characters or themes.**

* * *

...

"The world is mine."

Smirking against his tea cup, Arthur sat back resting on the chair against his window and stared out into his lush, advanced and beautiful land from his office. It was the only place he could think, where he could get things done for his room was too spacious and much too distracting. His office however, was a plainer room with nothing much else than a desk, chairs and a bookshelf piled high with books and of course maps which littered themselves across the room.

It was fairly dark with the only light shining in from the window behind him where he could easily see the beautiful city of London.

Although he had many papers before him, needing to be reviewed or read over the man had trouble remaining focused. Whether it was due his own feelings or that of his people he felt happy, joyous even.

The previous night had been a great victory for his people for Spain had finally fallen.

The absolute look of horror spread across Antonio's face was, to him, the most pleasing event of the night. Having tied the Spaniard down, humiliating him, and forcing him to watch his entire fleet burn, witness his cities plundered, and that wretched Queen of his flogged. Each moment Arthur spent watching his shifting expressions was absolutely delicious.

No matter how many times the man turned, trying to look away from the horrible scene Arthur would force him to watch more. Force him to listen to the screams of his people, and force him to watch them die.

One by one the people who dared to revolt perished beneath the fiery sky before friends, family, and neighbors...

Arthur needed to set an example.

Has the world forgotten? Did the other countries believe him to be weak? Did they dare believe that he would not meet the challenges posed by them?

The world needed a reminder, _Germany _needed a reminder of what he was capable of achieving. Thus Spain was to be that example; educating the watching world of what should have been the first and most important lesson, that resistance was futile. He needed to remind the world of who its master was, The British Empire.

So he burned his flags, his capital, his doctrine, anything that could have possibly given the people false ideals, ideals that they were still Spaniards. Arthur nearly scoffed at the thought. They were his, they were Britons. Subjects of his Queen. Following his doctrine.

In there places he was to erect a new ideal, the perfect state of blue, white and red. The ideal union of his Glorious Nation.

He'd been too soft. He'd been far too soft and action needed to be taken, he would deal with this 'revolt' as he had done before with the others and Germany would become yet another example.

Under his flag there would be no Germans, no Spaniards, no Hungarians, no Americans; only Britons. Serving one nation, one Queen, one God, perfectly unified under one flag, his flag, his perfect Union Jack.

It was better that way...

In the midst of his thoughts, there was a knock at the door.

And with a heavy sigh, the man placed his cup of tea upon the table and stood. He relieved his clothing of both wrinkles and any food crumbs or remnants before he called to the knocker.

"Enter" The man was confident of who had done the knocking, for no one dared to enter his study while he was hard at work.

However, for the second time in the last three months or so he was expecting company from a different land, and he'd given his new guest special permission to knock when he arrived.

However, the door opened slowly as if the visitor was afraid to enter. As the entrance opened a slight shrill sounded throughout the room from the old door. A tuff of wheat colored hair peaked in, and deep blue eyes searched the room, trying to find his target.

"Oh." Finally, his eyes set on his objective: the British man standing nearly directly before the door, behind the desk.

"Come on boy, don't let the draft in." He demanded.

The young man, hardly a _boy,_ stepped in dressed nearly similar to Arthur however he seemed more relaxed.

Instead of a coat he wore a vest, his own trousers had been colored tan as opposed to Arthurs black and his shirt hadn't been fastened to the top, his shoes had not been shined properly, or even at all for that matter, but Arthur did not comment. He'd gotten used to the blue eyed mans _off _sense of style.

"Have a seat boy, you _have_ been here many times before..."

Right.

The boy had been in the office many times in the past. He knew this room, for it had not changed in all of his years. It was the office of his mentor, the man whom raised him, the man who, as a child, he often times imitated, the one he wanted to be like, the one he adored more than anyone else.

His only wish as a child was be great like Britain, to have the man proudly look upon him and smile. For him to return to him all that the older had given him...

But that dream was over.

It had been gunned down and with it a realization occurred to him: he could never be a great nation, he would never build an empire, he would never be anything else but a colony, the property of the British Empire. Nothing more, nothing less. He would be nothing else to him. Nothing at all...

The boy sat in the single unoccupied chair facing the Great Nation, he was blinded by the sun behind him, the glorious glow of a magnificent man he thought. However, the sun beamed so brightly that to him Arthur appeared only as a shadow. A dark silhouette, which allowed no light to beam upon his own skin.

"Glad to see you boy, tea?"

" No thank you." Was his automatic reply. He wasn't very fond of tea, much to the disliking of the man before him who was addicted to the bitter substance.

"Oh well..." He watched the shadowy figure place an object to his lips, he figured it was his tea cup."Tell me about westward expansion..." He put down the cup with a soft 'clank' and stared into the eyes of his colony.

"The Mexicans are still giving us trouble with the Texan boarder, but it's been going well. They say there might be gold out west, but I doubt it, no one has found any..."

"I see. Glad to hear it's been well, are you in need of anything? Money?"

"No, the people are fine...Canada and I finally settled that border thing..."

"Good to hear it, anything else?"

"That's it..."

"Alright..."

The pair sat in silence. The Colony began to shift in his seat in an attempt to make noise, any amount of noise to fill the gaps. He wasn't talking to him, he was only staring. Why had the elder called him here?

The American was tired from his boat trip and hungry as well, he wanted to rest and eat however he did not want the empire to yell at him for constantly eating or scold him for complaining so he waited. He waited for as long as he could before he needed to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I heard about Spain..." He began however he instantly regretted the topic for he did not agree with the method used to occupy country.

"Did you now?" He voiced disinterestedly.

"Yeah. It was..." He trailed off.

"It was what?" The Englishmen asked. Shooting a glare at his guest.

"Nothing...I-I just heard a lot about it..." He lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. He _had _heard a lot about it upon his arrival in London, and the rumors which spread around in the past few years.

It was what everyone spoke about, many of them proud of their countries imperialism, and others curious to see how it would play out. However Alfred could only cringe in disgust upon hearing what happened the previous night (how on earth did word spread so quickly in London anyway? )

He knew what the empire had done to Spain and it was absolutely dehumanizing. Slaughtering all those people, burning everything to the ground, crushing their spirits, it was cruel.

However he was not one tell him how to conquer.

"Don't lie to me boy..." Arthur warned, he glared across the desk at the younger man.

"Tell me , what have you_ heard_?"

"Just about you conquering Spain..." He lowered his gaze, not wanting to meet those of the empire.

Another sip of tea. Arthur was silent.

"So...did you do what they say you did?"

"and what is that?"

"They said Spain went up in flames and a lot of civilians died and...y'know things like that..." Alfred spoke the last portion in pure disgust. He was well aware of how cruel Arthur could be, many times for no reason, no real purpose only to satisfy his desire to see blood. He would spill blood for excitement, for enjoyment, for pleasure. Alfred himself has many times been the subject of Arthurs cruel sense of enjoyment, his punishment for being a lowly colony...

He recalled once, after his failed revolution having spoken out of turn and was punished for it. Arthur locked him away in a small room beneath the staircase and only let out hours after, when the sun went down. He claimed to have felt guilty afterwards, he hugged him and apologized many times, he tried to make it up to him in the usual _special _way however that was in stance that the colony was unable to forget. Britain could be cruel, even toward those he claimed to adore...

"It's true. I invaded Spain and set the bloody place ablaze, I killed those filthy Spaniards who foolishly tried to defy me, and as for Antonio..." A sly smirk appeared on the lips of the empire, he let out a small chuckle and moved his tongue moved across his jaw.

"He got what he deserved"

Alfred scowled. It was disgusting, Arthur was sick. He was twisted.

Arthur had a very warped view of pleasure. Seeing his enemies in pain was something he got off on, it's what he wanted, what he enjoyed. Feeling dominant, being superior, being on top of the world...

It gave him pleasure.

He wanted to hurt Antonio, he wanted to _break _the man, exposing him to the cruelest form of punishment available to him. He _violated _him...

"Why the face lad?" He sounded playful, far to playful for the others liking. "Are you upset? Don't be. You know how much I love you right?" That's right. Britain loved him. He loved him thus he would never do to him what he did to Antonio, that is what the empire was trying to assure him. He would never touch him that way, after all he was special. He was different.

"B-but why? His people didn't deserve to die!"

"They needed to be put in their place. Spain needed to be an example Alfred. I wouldn't expect you to understand however..."

"You're right, I don't understand why you have to oppress so many people!" The colony felt a sudden surge of adrenalin. He was never a fan of what Arthur was doing, he felt as if people needed to be free, not dominated.

He missed the days when Arthur was kind. What happened? He missed the man who lead him by the hand and looked at him with kindness, the one who raised him, the man he was before his failed revolution...

However no matter what cruel things Arthur had done to others, he continued to cling to him, tried his best to serve him perfectly, hoping that one day his servitude and obedience would change their relationship, change it back to how it was before...

"What did you say to me boy?" A low voice growled from across the desk. To Alfred's horror, a pair of green was set upon him set ablaze with anger.

"What makes you think these people have been oppressed? Do you _feel _oppressed by me? Have I done anything to make you feel such a way?"

"N-no" He started. "You've been nothing but good to me"

"And your brother? Has he told you this?"

"No."

"Then someone must have...tell me Alfred, who told you that they feel oppressed? What have you heard?

"Nothing. I haven't heard anything from anyone..." He felt the fear building in him now. What would he do? He didn't mean to say that. How would he hurt him this time?

"Don't lie to me boy!" He beat his hand against the wood of the desk, sending a shrill up the Americans spine. "I know colonies like to talk. What have you heard?"

"Nothing! The others don't talk to me, they don't trust me, I-I know you know what they say about me..." He paused. Wanting the older nation to give him confirmation to stop, not wanting to say the words whispered behind his back...

However he did not, and thus the colony continued.

"They call me your dog, your lapdog, and they say that...I've whored myself out to you to get special treatment, so they don't trust me..."

"I see. " Arthur stood. Walking across the desk he stood before Alfred.

The man seemed so...big to the trembling colony. He did not dare to meet the man's gaze.

A cold hand brushed across his cheek, and a low voice spoke to him, forcing his gaze upward and forcing him to look into the cold, unforgiving eyes of the British Empire that tried to imitate that of a warm, loving care giver. The eyes that Alfred used to adore.

"And do you know why they say those things Alfred?" He questioned. His thumb brushed lightly across the man's face.

He did not answer knowing that the question was not meant to be or rather he was too afraid to answer. He trembled beneath his touch, fearful for whatever punishment lay ahead. Did Arthur think he was lying? He knew nothing of Germany but rumors about his people revolting. Surly Arthur did not need to know that, surely he was already aware?

"America _dear_, they say those things because they envy the good fortune you have, both you and your brother living in the new world, they want to lure you away from me, because they wish to destroy me...do you understand?"

Slowly the young man nodded.

"Good...listen to me dear boy" Arthur lowered himself, wanting to be at eye level with his colony, a singular hand still caressing the mans, reddened cheek. He wanted to look away, he did not wish to be caught in his mesmerizing gaze yet he could not pull his gaze away from him.

"My dear America, you've never had to fight in battles, you've never known the true horror of war, I've done my best so far to keep you out of it, to stop you from being involved in these terrible things..." He began as he took the man's shaking hand into his own. Arthur was sure not to break eye contact.

"You don't understand it now, but I am making the world better. I'm unifying the world Alfred. Making it better, peaceful, don't you understand that?"

Slowly, Alfred nodded, not fully understanding the means, but he understood the goal well.

"Good" Taking his hand, Arthur placed it against his lips and smiled.

Alfred's eyes lowered.

Why did Arthur treat him this way? Like a _woman_?

He hated it. Being treated so lowly by Britain, he detested being looked down upon, seen unworthy for anything more than an object for empty affection, false kindness, unreal care...

"There's a revolt in Germany you know..." England stood and Alfred nodded.

"I will be taking a trip to Germany, Alfred I need you there with me..."

"Me?"

"Yes. I need someone I can trust, someone with undying loyalty to me" He leaned his body against the arm of the chair, bending closely toward him before continuing, "Someone to be an extra pair of eyes and ears..."

Trust.

Those were empty words and Alfred knew it.

Arthur did not trust, he didn't trust anyone, not even China.

Arthur was incapable of that feeling, along a longer list of emotions, and Alfred knew that. However, although he knew it was a lie, although he knew that Arthur would never trust him, that he could never truly care for anyone other than himself, the colony could not help but smile. The relationship between them seemed to be improving and someday...

Maybe someday...

...

* * *

So...

That was fun.

I feel like I've been writing Arthur as such a bad guy, it makes me sad because Arthur is my favorite. He seems to have a very...interesting relationship to Alfred.

Treating him like a woman eh?

I hope everyone enjoyed it, I hope even more that my original idea is clear.

Bye bye for now! (and reviews are cherished!)


	4. Chapter 3o5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia its characters or themes.**

**Wow, I'm very happy to see so many people following my story and such, thank you very much! :)**

**But, I have a small problem guys! You see, Germany as we (kind of) know it wasn't established until 1871, but my story takes place primarily in the 1840s! {It's currently the year 1840} (and judging my Chapter 2, Germany seems to be important!)**

**So- we can either all over look my error (it is an Alternate Universe after all!) =OR= we can totally find a way around this...(say, creating some sort of alternate world timeline or something...) I personally favor option one!**

**What of you?**

**...**

**btw: this is like an -in between- chapter, I'll go into it at the bottom!**

* * *

_1783, Philadelphia_

_Broken._

_That was what he was. He was a man, a land broken, torn and scarred._

_A fallen nation whom was unable to stand. _

_Every ounce of his being was swept from him, taken, washed away by the rain on that day. _

_It was a day unforgettable._

_Each moment spent thinking, remembering, reminiscing, was a new wound forming. A memory that ripped him open, made him vulnerable, made him weak, feeble, pitiful; just as he was on that merciless day._

_How could he forget? The small round scar which marred the skin of his upper torso has been constant reminder of his failure since. A reminder of his failure to his people and to himself, a reminder of brokenness. How things shattered, never to return to its former state. Belongings broken, bodies busted, imperfection, relationships marred, never to be cleaned. _

_Things would never be the same. _

_His scar, which had never been allowed to heal, served as a constant reminder of how he failed before the eyes of the watching world. A reminder of the humiliation he felt, the shame, the torment..._

_However no other feeling stood strong against the tormenting, dehumanizing glare of his mentor. The amount of shame and humiliation which swelled under his gaze was far worse than anything else in memory._

_And he sat. Eyes casted down at the dirty ground beneath his feet, surrounded by nothing but the thin white cloth that formed into a tent, the large tent of a military general or someone of equal importance. The scent of earth and burning wax engulfed him as he sat. The atmosphere which would have been peaceful to most had stirred many unpleasing emotions within the body of the colony._

_"Taxes." The word was practically spat. The man dressed in red gave a defiant stare to him and he shuttered. A cold cruel gaze full of nothing but bitter, heartbreaking emotions stabbed and pierced his skin, pouring out blood. Each moment under the callous gaze was suffocating to him. He felt himself wanting to look away, he did not want to watch as the older man stole away the air in his lungs, killing him with his eyes._

_"They were taxes..." He repeated for the umpteenth time. "Was it worth it? Over taxes? All the men lost, homes destroyed, families torn apart...eight years worth of blood, sweat and tears? Was it worth it!?" His stare did not fail to deepen as his voice rose, face reddening with anger, hand slamming itself against the wooden desk in which he sat. _

_"I-it wasn't about taxes Arthur!" He informed, however the nation scoffed._

_"You may refer to me as Britain." The man growled. The colonies blue eyes widened and expression of disbelief molded itself across his features. "You are no longer my little brother." Words shot back into his ears piercing his flesh once more. No, this was salt being tossed into his already wounded body._

_Words he had spoken which were meant to hurt his mentor were being tossed at him, cutting his heart open, bursting it into regretful sorrow._

_He felt remorse._

_Or perhaps it was self-pity. For he knew what he had done upon ending in failure would come back and haunt him for the rest to his days. _

_His desire to hurt him, would only end in his own misfortune. He knew that, yet he was not prepared to face the consequences. _

_He wanted to hurt the man sitting across from him, he wanted him to feel the pain that he felt, the twinge of abandonment that he felt while learning, all on his own, to be self governing. He had been alone, forced to grow up quickly as he knew the eyes of the world were upon him. France and Spain were watching him like hawks while England was away and nowhere to be seen. Not there to protect him. He became strong on his own._

_And suddenly he came back? Stepped back into his life and began demanding things! Money, food, shelter, everything he had. After years of abandonment his mentor stepped back into his life to demand loyalty to a king he had never even seen!_

_He was not wrong to rebel. He knew in his heart what he did, what he was aiming for wasn't wrong..._

_He just..._

_He just wanted to hurt him as he'd been hurt. Was that really so wrong? _

_However England viewed it was a simple rebellion of an ungrateful colony. Something that needed to be put down, something which could be disregarded and ignored afterwards. _

_He was unable to force the sting of loneliness upon the man. He was unable to make him feel the tormenting pain of neglect, or the forlornness of cold, dark was unable to harm the British Empire..._

_However, the empire was fully capable, and dead set upon hurting his colony for what he had done._

_"Do you have any idea how much this little insurrection of yours cost? How much tea you wasted into that damn harbor? How much supplies we wasted on you because you only wanted to whine and bitch about taxes!?"_

_"I told you is wasn't about taxes!" His voice raised. But the man shrunk back, instantly regretting his decision to speak back in defiance._

_"You're right" Britain spoke. He spoke with a calmness in his voice, a softness and it was the man's pleasing tone which frightened the colony the most. "You are absolutely right Alfred. This wasn't about taxes." From his desk the empire slid a large sheet of parchment. He held it in a manner that did not allow Alfred to see the content. "How did you put it... The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world..." He read, he read and the colonies eyes widened._

_"My Declaration..." He let out breathlessly. He stared at his mentor as the man mocked him, reading off the letter sent, written by his people before the war._

_"No" The man gasped. He wanted him to stop yet the reading did not cease. Arthur continued his scornful evaluation, reducing it to nothing more than mockery, and painful disdain. Alfred felt so passionate, so confident when it was written, now, the man felt nothing but shame, shame and painful humiliation._

_"Please stop!" He begged, painfully aware of the sound of his cracking voice._

_However it did not end. Arthur continued to read down the list of grievances._

_"...He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power._

_He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:_

_For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:_

_For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:_

_For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:_

_For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent..."_

_Alfred only sat, sat and listened to what his people felt collectively as his throat ran dry._

_"Arthur please" He begged silently._

_"I told you boy, you may call me that no longer..."_

_The words ceased to flow yet the disgrace did not._

_Alfred didn't want this. He did not want to feel humiliated and shamed upon looking into the unforgiving stare of his mentor. He wanted things back to the way they were before._

_"You bought this on yourself boy." Taking the parchment the Englishman began to roll it, forming it into a the perfect cylinder, then without a sign of care or concern he placed it over the flickering candle flame._

_Alfred gaped at him; wide eyed, lips slightly parted._

_"No! Arthur no! Stop!" He tried as hard as his trembling body would allow to snatch his precious Declaration from the hands of his mentor. However he only received a stinging blow to his left cheek._

_Horrified, the colony gazed at the empire from his currently position seated on the small dirt patch. He stood above him, burning parchment at his feet, he looked into fierce green eyes of the man ablaze with hatred. Hatred directed toward him? Or for what he has done? _

_Turning down his gaze Alfred reached for the fierily paper only to have his fingers burned by the dancing flame._

_"Ahh!" He colony placed his fingers into his mouth, wanting to sooth the pain but despite his best efforts nothing could take the pain away from him. It was as if his body split in two, as if it was axed in half by the man before him..._

_"Let it burn." Arthur's cruel voice rang throughout the tent in torment._

_Alfred did not turn to him he muttered a few words to himself before finally speaking._

_"I'm sorry." His cracking voice finally pushed. "Don't treat me like this, I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" He begged, eyes glossed over, cheeks reddened. "I'm sorry!"_

_Like a child after being reprimanded for doing wrong Alfred apologized. He apologized to the man, the greater nation, begging, pleading for his forgiveness. However, his words only enacted a boiling rage in the second party._

_"I only wanted...to prove that I was strong! That I could take care of myself, that I could be my own nation!" He forced out. He wanted to reason with Britain, wanted him to understand, wanted him to at least take pity on him._

_However that was not the case._

_"Get out." He hissed._

_"Arthur!" He begged._

_"I said get out! I want you gone boy! Out of my site!" He growled dismissing him as nothing more than a child. A disobedient child._

_"B-but why? Please talk to me! I don't want this!" Alfred confessed. No. He did not want this at all. What he wanted was different, much different. He wanted to be looked at differently, treated differently..._

_"I said get out!" Arthur finally yelled, sending a wave of shock throughout the body of his colony. The man did not protest, instead he acted in obedience; picking himself out the dirt and brushing himself off. "You're no different than my brothers...I want you gone boy!"He stared back at the man, shooting him one last pleading look before turning away. Dejected._

_Arthur huffed. The boy did little more than beg for his forgiveness but that was not enough. That would never be enough. Arthur would not forgive him. He could not forgive him for what he had done to him._

_Had he forgotten?_

_He was the one, the one who tried so hard to hurt him? The one who had torn out his heart, the one who declared war. He would not forgive him, a simple apology would not be enough._

_For he felt betrayed._

_Betrayal._

_A horrifyingly mesmerizing experience for betrayal could not live without trust. But the idea that, at one point in time, trust had been introduced into their relationship was captivating. For he did not know when the concept of trust came to exists, it was foreign to him._

_Trust. The false expectation that one could rely on another, that one would not betray him. Trust was a nonexistent concept._

_He knew that he could not rely on others, that no one would ever support him, that he was cursed always to be alone, standing alone against the world. He knew that._

_However, the sting of betrayal still radiated throughout his body, purging him of all other feelings, all other thoughts, forcing him to concentrate solely on the numbing pain of treachery, of disloyalty, of betrayal._

_He should have known better. Trust was for the weak, for those who were not strong enough to stand alone._

_He was always alone, he needed no one, he was perfectly fine by himself as he had been all his life._

_He was the black sheep after all, somehow different from the others. He never known why, never knew the reasons why they mocked him, tormented him, and terrorized him day after day. He did not know why he was hated, detested, and left alone. From the day he was born they wanted him to die, and yet he never knew why._

_He shouldn't have thought this one any different. Everyone left him and he had been silly to think that it would not be the same with him. He was grateful for his insurrection. It served as a reminder of who he was: the man cursed to wander the world forever alone, sinking into the waters of despair._

_He was silly to have thought otherwise._

_..._

_After finishing papers, writing letters and filing reports the island nation left his tent. He informed his generals that he would be leaving the camp sight. He said his goodbyes and participated in idle chatter._

_America was in a sensitive state, many patriots still fought demanding independence. There had been protests, many of them about the jailing of the American delegates and so forth. After only three days since the war's end, it was to be expected. Especially of the uncivilized Americans._

_England did not pay mind to the occasional dirty look cast his way or insulting shout directed toward him as he walked toward his destination. He paid no mind to the propaganda or the citizens demanding independence from the oppressive red coats, or the bloody backs, as he had heard many of them call._

_He had but one goal in mind and would not be distracted from it. He refused to sleep in a tent or at the home of a citizen, no. He had a perfectly fine home on the outskirts of the city and he was going to make damn good use of it..._

_..._

_It was dark. Dark when Alfred arrived home. It was dark and he was tired. Sluggishly he pulled himself into his home and was greeted by the familiar, yet misplaced scent of food cooking, burning actually, from the kitchen. With a deep sigh and the holding of breath the teen tiptoed into the room. Peaking behind the wall he nearly gasped at the sight._

_"A-Britain?" He blinked. The man did not turn around to greet him, nor give an explanation of why he was there, he set two bowls on the table and spoke._

_"Wash up, dinner's nearly done."_

_It was a sentence all too familiar to Alfred. As a child, running in from playing, Arthur would greet him by calling "Wash up, dinner's nearly done!"_

_It was a daily ritual but it was one that he never expected to have again._

_However this time there was no warmth, no joy, no eagerness to his statement. Only cold disdain, as if it was forced._

_"What are you even doing here?" He did not want to enlist the wrath of the British Empire upon him, however he felt confident that he had the right to ask, being his home and all..._

_The empire did not respond, only continued to burn whatever cooked on the stove._

_"Britain, are you even-"_

_"This is my house boy." The man was sure to put large emphasis on the final word "I don't need a reason to be here, nor my colony," another emphasis "questioning me, you hear me?" He finally turned to the other standing outside the kitchen. His trousers were caked with dirt and grass stains and his hair tousled filthy, who knew where he had gone? He did not care, he turned around and repeated his greeting to Alfred._

_"Wash up, dinner's nearly done."_

_Without words of protest, Alfred turned. He walked into the living room and descended up to his bedroom where he locked the door and sat on the bed._

_He was not in the mood to eat. Arthur was probably planning to poison him or something. He probably felt the need to keep watch over him._

_Alfred did not like the way Arthur looked at him, the way he barged in, the way he treated him like a child! Dismissing all his efforts and standing there as if nothing had ever happened. Was he mocking him? Teasing him?_

_Did he truly see his revolution was nothing? So insignificant that he felt he could go right back to playing house?_

_But unlike before Alfred knew the man was upset with him, furious actually. He would, and could do anything he wanted to his colony because that is what he was his colony, his property._

_He knew any slip up would be grounds for punishment. He committed treason against the state of England._

_So, in his best judgment, the colony left his room after changing of course and joined the empire after having his name called from downstairs._

_Perhaps if he played house, played the part of the perfect colony, the perfect brother, Britain would put it behind him, and as much as it hurt, dismiss what had he done and spare his people shame and humiliation._

_If he pretended that it didn't matter, that it didn't hurt him, that he was not angry or bitter; then perhaps someday he would not be._

_If he was the perfect solider, maybe his relationship with the man eating silently across from him would go back to how it was before._

_Maybe if he played house..._

_He was a broken man as it was...Arthur could do no worse...could he?_

_..._

* * *

(hides in corner of shame and humiliation)

I wanted to give you all a look back on the state of the relationship between Alfred and Arthur was immediately after the war, but I'm not sure if my original idea was given justice when I wrote it, but I hope you guys enjoyed it anyway...

I've grown somewhat fond of the idea of having various .5 chapters throughout the story, its like telling two stories in one (which are heavily connected) after reading a book titled The Color of Water a few years ago, I became a fan of the style it took (for it alternated between the narrative of the main character and his life, and his mother's)

what do you guys think? Good idea or bad?

Drop a review and tell me what you think...y-yo! *blushes*


	5. Chapter 4

**I do not own Hetalia its characters nor themes**

**Thank you everyone for all the alerts and favorites; I would particularly like to thanks those who took the time out to review, there very much appreciated and keep me writing~**

**I hope you enjoy! After all, I aim to entertain you.**

* * *

_..._

_"'-fred, are you listening to me anymore?"_

_The teenager smiled as his brother gave him a small impatient glare. The crisp morning breeze brushed against their skin and ruffled both sets of blond hair as the smell of ocean salt filled their lungs. It was truly a beautiful morning. Boats lined against the harbor, birds calling to one another, and the subtle remnants rain left over from the night before..._

_It all came together perfectly to bid Alfred adieu, as his brother would say, from his home in order to make the long, boredom filled, journey across the Atlantic._

_"You worry too much Mattie" Alfred gave his brother a sly smile._

_"I'm serious" The Canadian personification sighed, as he clung unto his bear. The two looked very much alike aside from the Canadians choice of hair style, wearing it somewhat longer than his American counterpart, and the glasses which covered his violet eyes. "Try not to get yourself involved in European affairs, you always get too carried away when it comes to him." He informed. _

_Although his voice was not as deep or loud as his brothers, the young man was determined to get his point across. "A large number of German immigrants have been coming to Canada and I've been hearing a lot of bad things about the state of Europe. I doubt things could have changed much in a few months..." He cast his eyes down, violet hit brown as his feet shuffled across the wooden deck, he went on to make several observations about the natural life before his brother spoke._

_"What sort of things?" America questioned. His own restricted trade, only to be with Britain for his colony lived to serve the 'mother land', prevented him from hearing much about Europe. America, however, was free to trade with Canada, whether it was because Britain didn't care, or the proximity of their homes made it impossible to monitor regardless. (America felt as if Britain had pushed him to become friends with his brother, if only to keep both happy and avoid another revolution in North America). _

_"England's constant battles with Spain finally erupted into war about a few years ago and from what I hear things aren't going well for the people in Spain or the surrounding countries, and things don't seem to be settling down in Germany yet at all, and I know that France..." He trailed off thinking of his former care giver the one who, still, had a lasting effect on his culture no matter how much Britain disliked it, the thought of him made his mouth run dry._

_He knew France hated Britain, and Britain France, but, despite the fact that his loyalty remained with Arthur, he still held Francis dearly in his heart despite not having seen the man in years._

_Alfred placed a worried hand on the shoulder of his brother, who only replied with a small smile._

_"Don't worry. I doubt Britain would even let me get into it, I'm just a colony it isn't really my place..." He shrugged. "You know I have to do everything he says, I am his lap dog after all" He joked but his brother frowned, he knew how hurtful the nick name was to Alfred._

_"Have a safe journey"_

_"Thanks, I'll write to you alright? Expect my letters!"_

_With that, Alfred boarded the ship and set sail for 'jolly old England'_

...

He sighed laying in the guest bedroom, staring at the ceiling he thought over the time before he left. Canada told him that he always got carried away, if only he knew the half of it, he'd probably have a heart attack. He loved his brother so much, it was hard to imagine there was ever a time when the two of them didn't get along. He promised he would write his brother, however he wasn't sure what he would write.

Nothing significant occurred in his first night in London. Talk between he and Britain, they ate, and Alfred was allowed to sleep.

However, now he lay barely awake reminiscing about the moment he left North America. It was not his first time away from his country, but he count the number of times he made the journey across the Atlantic on one hand. It was difficult to be a part from his home, being separated from the land always took a toll on him, there was always a feeling...

A lingering feeling of longing within him. He wondered if any of the others felt it as well. Alfred sighed once more, he adjusted himself to be more comfortable in the lavish bed he sprawled himself across. Although the room was bright with the morning sun screening itself across the white colored walls and, save for the bed, a desk, and a small table, empty room. No wait, there was a map on the wall adjacent to the bed the colony had nearly forgotten as he closed his eyes once more. Mentally trying to write a letter to Canada only to be met with failure.

Unfortunately, his thoughts were interrupted by the squeal of an opening door and footsteps approaching the bed.

Alfred tried to ignore it, thinking it was only a maid collecting the linens, he fought to return to his previous state of slumber. He felt his body becoming relaxed once more until he felt the bed dip down on his side, and a warm hand lay itself upon his shoulder.

"It's time to wake up lad..."

He grumbled something inaudible to the speaker and snuggled against his pillow in an effort to convince him of his tiredness and the empire sighed.

It was silent for a few moments, Alfred had the mind to peak up at the empire had he not begun talking.

"I do hope you're happy Alfred..." He felt the man brush his hair softly. He wanted to shutter.

Slowly empire rose, wincing slightly at a slight jolt of pain in his back. Alfred took notice of this, as he watched his mentor stand. Was he in pain?

"Britain..." He found himself calling lowly. The empire stopped. He turned around and he smiled sweetly.

"Awake I see? How naughty..." He laughed to himself and leaned over, pressing his forehead gently against Alfred's. "It's time for you to awaken..."He made a low noise in resistance and Arthur sighed. "What will I do with you lad?" He ran his hand though his hair. "Fifteen minutes and I'll be back, I expect you to be up and about by then." With a light kiss right above the corner of his eye, and a tussle of his hair, Arthur rose and stepped out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Alfred sighed.

From the hall he could hear his unmistakable voice informing someone, most likely a maid of some sort, not to enter the room, for he was still sleeping.

He felt something on the bed, against his feet, daringly he lifted his head and gazed down the colorful quilt, and he was correct. A bundle of clothing sit at the foot of the bed, left by Arthur for him to wear.

Alfred wanted to inform the island country that he was capable of dressing himself, however he feared his resistance would strike a chord with him.

Truly Britain became angry far too easily, however this was not a new development in his personality, the man had little patience and was quite irritable, his pride as an empire did not tolerate anything less than perfection from himself, or his colonies. Defeat was never an option for him, in war or in other sense, his greed would not allow anything to be taken away from him, and it requires him to take more. It was a strange mixture of greed and pride that made the nation's imperialistic attitude so prevalent, always testing himself, challenging himself, wanting to see what he could do next, what else he could _take_, never letting himself loose.

After all, 'the sun never set on the British empire'

The colony sighed. He pushed the many thoughts to the back of his mind and tried to focus on the new day. However his memories of the previous night could only be drowned out by more dangerous thought. Thoughts inquiring his own time, his own quest for greatness...

However he had no time to dolt; for guilt soon took over. Arthur did all he could to keep Alfred happy and safe, out of war, defending the land he called home, supplying him the everything he needed, asking little in exchange in comparison, exports, resources,_ taxas._

The man did not mind giving what he had, his people learned to adapt, the complaints were still prevalent, but nothing...extreme. Nothing like his rebellious stage as it had been explained to him much afterwards, it wasn't uncommon for a nation to go though such a phase...

Things were better, he could only be grateful for Arthurs _generosity _ashe would call it. What he had done was treason, he should have been treated like the others. However being an actual nation, he wouldn't have rotted in jail like Jefferson and Madison, he wouldn't have been died on the gallows with Adams or Hamilton, nor would he have perished hanging beside Washington. No. There actually wasn't anything anyone could have done, save for lock him away, however Arthur had not done that. He merely took him back, but the warmth the empire once had went cold.

Stripping the depressing thoughts from his mind, the colony finally managed to drag himself off the bed, allowing his toes to plant firmly against the marbled floor.

With a loud yawn, the man finally got an opportunity to stretch cracking any bones that may have grown stiff and shaking off the feel of bad memories. The man took the cotton shirt into his hands. Many times has Britain informed him that sleeping with no shirt was improper, however, the colony felt it needed for comfort and otherwise would not be able to sleep, a added bonus was ease of dressing.

Beneath the shirt were a set of black trousers, perfectly pressed and cleaned. Next to it law a blue frockcoat, adorned with gold colored buttons down the front and on the cuffs. Alfred raised a slight brow, this manner of dress did not suit him, he was far more comfortable in his own clothing. Beside the bed he noted a new pair of shining black shoes.

The door swung open once again however and the colony looked up at the intruder.

"Oh. You're up now..." Had so much time passed already?

He nodded.

"Good..." Arthur looked over his colony, his eyes fell on the small circular scar which marred his chest and sighed, a frown formed itself.

"You should let that heal..." He stepped forward and placed his hand over it. "It isn't very becoming..."

"Yeah? You don't think it gives me character?" He tried to joke over the empire would have none of that.

"Breakfast is running cold Alfred..."The colony felt the light brush of two pairs of lips across his own. "Be sure to join me soon..." With that the empire left him alone with his thoughts and an red stain across his features.

Why did Britain continue to treat him like this?

Sighing once more, the young man slipped his arm into one of the shirt sleeves. His hand brushing over a small, yet evident, mar on his otherwise smooth skin. He ignored the small bullet shaped scar which lay suspiciously close to his heart and continued to get dressed...

...

A period later Alfred finally stumbled down the stairs, following the smell of tea and the lingering scent of burnt food, he made it into the overly decorative dining room. He located his mother country sitting against the window sipping tea, stone faced, the man turned to him.

"You let your scones go cold..." He reprimanded, "They're probably no good by now(that implying they were ever good to begin with)" He sighed. Raising, the nation approached his colony, overlooking his manner of dress, nodding slightly in approval. "I suppose you look presentable..."

Presentable. Arthur always taught him how important a man's appearance was, however Alfred could never bring himself to particularly care much about it.

Arthur scowled upon looking at the young man's hair "This stubborn piece..." He mumbled lowly, reaching up in order to brush back the colonies cow lick, to no avail. His sudden proximity stained the younger's cheeks pink. The empire tried. He tried his best to be the caring older brother he once had been however something was always off. There was always something different...

"That things never going to lay down, it's been the same since you were small" He noted. Upon that, the man seemed to have given up.

"We're going into town, I suppose I can purchase something from the baker for you lad..."

Without question, Alfred followed the empire out the doors of his home and into the abnormally sunny road.

Alfred hesitated, remaining several steps behind the empire as they walked, watching the man stroll, head held high, shoulders straight and taking long confident strides.

Truly, this man was a great nation.

A great nation, surly he was...

Unfortunately, not everyone thought the same of the empire.

For the nations gathered in secrecy somewhere across the English Channel thought the opposite.

France, after blowing his nose into a handkerchief, looked across the cool, darkened room, over the faces of his new found allies. He received a near sympathetic look from Prussia, his old friend.

His cold was bad and it was obvious to everyone around that his economy was growing worse as the days went by. France was crowded, it was overpopulated and full of the fear and paranoia of the British Empire. He not only needed to keep his people safe, but the few colonies he had as well. England already took one of his colonies in the past and made it impossible for the nation to see him. no matter how badly he wanted to charge the royal navy for the sole purpose of seeing his little boy once more...

He would **not** allow that happen again. It may have taken months of pleading, however Germany was finally convinced him to help.

"Bitte, please. " It was his last stand, France learned that younger the nation was not too proud to beg in times of dire need."Please France there is no one else to hear me out..." Germany came to the conclusion that France was the only one who could help him, even with a bad economy, he was the final strong hold against England.

Francis himself had been in this situation once before, territory of Britain pleading with him, begging to help him fight. The words were all too familiar. He'd taken too long to consider the first time, actually he'd blatantly refused to aid him, something he considers one of his largest mistakes, for his hesitance cost that poor colony the war and in effect turned the Brit into a tyrant. "Please..." He recalled him begging. "Please France, there's no one else, listen to me!"

He knew the German states were in bad shape. Months of civil revolts would do that. The people never grew weak or tired under British rule, they continued to fight, while others fled to France or North America, claiming that even if it was under British rule they were treated far better, or they could have more freedom. However, Germanys state of being was better off than Spain's.

Spain. Spain, was in a state of complete oppression. Unlike Germany, or rather, "The British Province of The United German States" British soldiers in Spain were ordered to be brutal, to kill in any instance of civil unrest. It was clear that England's long standing grudge against the Spanish speaking nation was now being acted upon, and it was sickening. Antonio needed to support his people yet Francis did not want to endanger him by getting the man involved in more schemes. However he had every intention of helping him where he could: smuggling as much food and supplies as he could across the border, unfortunately there wasn't much he could give.

Germany could send France rations if he agreed to support him. His people would not starve or go cold, and if, no, _when_ he freed Germany from Britain's tyrannical rule he would be weaker, he could strike the empire and end the years of his senseless imperialism and bloodshed.

At least, that was his own plan.

Germany was able to convince him that he was thinking too small-if Germany could find allies, find those who wanted to end the oppression, they could form some sort of alliance. Britain may be strong, but he could not withstand a series of nations unified.

Prussia instantly joined his brother to fight. Gilbert would always support his younger brother, that, and he would never pass up the chance to fight.

However, having Prussia and France alone wouldn't be enough (for Gilbert had boundary issues and convinced himself that land he gave Ludwig was his as well, thus they would claim the same land and were both German States) Ludwig would need to find others.

Others to help him, others who felt the same, others who would be willing to take the risks associated with rebellion.

But...

Where would he begin?

...

* * *

**head canon: I believe that to the countries, calling one another by there human name means one of two things: You are extremely close or you're saying 'you don't even deserve to be called a nation/country' so it's meant for the highest degree of disrespect, (it can also be used in subordinate relationships). That is the reason why Arthur had Alfred call him Britain after his revolution, they stopped being close.**

**I feel like England would teach his colonies to call France and Spain by their human names (because he hates them) thus America called Spain 'Antonio' a few chapters back.**

**we'll see more of this head canon later~**

**...**

**So, Germans plotting against Britain-but wait, Arthur's going to Germany, oh no!**

**Wait...**

**Um... who's the bad guy here?**

**...**

**Until next time! {Review's are cherished! They help me make the story better for you!) XOXXOXOXO**


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey all! I'm sorry for the long gap between chapters, I had a lot on my plate this past week and I didn't have time to update!**

**Before we begin, I would like to state some sort of apology; you see...I do not to read over the chapters I write due to laziness, and therefore did not realize that there was a dire need to do so. I went through and found some very unsightly errors and I was very disappointed in myself.**

**I would like to formally apologize by putting you all through that and promise that I won't happen again.**

**I am searching for a Beta reader but until then I am positive that my own eyes can do the trick as long as I read what I write; to this will be my test run and I shall see if I need a beta!**

**Thank you so much for your time!**

**Also, I upped the rating to be safe for events to come~**

**I do not own Hetalia its characters or themes.**

* * *

_'I hate it when he's like this.'_

That was the only thing the colony could think as Britain spoke about his land and people as if they were nothing more than another jewel in the queen's crown, a jewel in his crown.

He spoke as if his people were just another tool to supply him with what he needed, as something to take from without a second thought and he hated it.

Alfred hated to think that he and his people were nothing but something for Britain to use when it was convenient for him.

But the colony did not say a word.

He stood and listened as his mentor spoke 'friendly politics' with the man before them, whom was dressed in a manner far too formal for the American's own taste. The fact that the man still wore breeches, which have long since gone out of style in America, was a dead giveaway that he was a member of the Queens Court, or something like that. He remembered England saying that they were still required for them to have when in the company of her royal highness. The duo ran into this man on the street on the way to the bakery. It was an unusually sunny day in London, men women children littered the streets; brushing and bumping against one another all trying to get someplace.

London was crowded, Alfred knew that but he had never seen it like this. It was so much different than America. The sights, the sounds, the smells...

London was far different than Boston or Philadelphia, however much was still the same. Friends greeting one another, men trying to woo ladies, children playing, it was all too familiar to Alfred. Of course Britain would run into someone he knew, it was unavoidable.

The two men spoke in a dignified manner and of things that Alfred did not understand. Needless to say he was more than embarrassed when the man asked him his own opinion on whatever matter they spoke of. The colony wasn't as learnt on the subject of politics because he did not have his own political system.

Britain laughed as he informed the man that his company was from the American colony and had just gotten in the previous night.

Although it was true, Alfred frowned. Britain saw his Americanism as an excuse to be ignorant and misinformed. He viewed Alfred's people as lower than his own. He viewed him as a second class citizen...

Regardless, he spared himself embarrassment and remained silent.

He stood and listened as the two went on and on about the empire. Obviously the human man was knowledgeable because the two had been talking for quite a while. Had Britain forgotten that he had not eaten yet?

Nothing in their conversation sparked Alfred's interest, until the topic of Germany was brought up. The American colony was legitimately interested in the other British territories, Germany included. He wasn't sure how they were treated or what the revolt entailed however he wished that it wasn't happening. He didn't want Germany nor its people to be hurt. He did not know the German personification personally but he knew the crushing feel of defeat all too well.

"-course Queen Victoria will not stand for it, this little uproar is nothing" Britain began as confident as ever that the empire, his empire, would withstand the threat of civil uproar.

"Certainly, but I believe that our North American colonies should contribute more to the motherland" The man explained, "Its costly: the protection, the supplies, the trade, they need to give more. Spain has cost us enough money as it is, and now Germany I-"

Alfred frowned, he became lost in his own thoughts. Give more?

What more could his people give? Taxes were at an all time high, many materials had to be rationed, and everyday something would go missing, big things. Many of his ships, and supplies would dissipate without explanation or warning and he knew that Canada was in no better shape.

There's nothing else to give!

"-ell have those Germans colonized by the end of this year"

"But...what if they don't want to be a colony?" America raised. The comment was not meant to have been heard by either of the two men. And only when he heard a light chuckle did he realize that his comment was heeded.

"Well my boy it isn't as simple as that. They don't understand what's best, being under the protection of the our great empire is something to be grateful for. " He tried to laugh it off however Americas frown only deepened.

"While I'm sure that's the case in your eyes sir, I believe that the Germans see it differently. Otherwise there would be no civil revolt " Alfred noted, his words stern yet his voice remained friendly. He did not want to seem rude or offensive to the man, who was taken aback by the comment and appeared to have nothing to say.

Britain shot his colony a warning glare, a silent dare for him to speak out once more.

"Forgive his rudeness Lord Brinton, Alfred was raised in the colonies and is very outspoken. He doesn't know a thing about manners nor _biting his tongue... _"

"It's quite alright, perhaps sending instructors to the American colonies would prove very beneficial, we simply cannot have them all behaving like miscreants."

Miscreants?

Had he ever set foot on American soil?

His people were innovative, creative, adventurers, and pioneers! They were loving and caring; so what if they didn't abide by the rules of England? They didn't live in England!

He should be free to speak his mind whenever he damn well pleased!

This man knew nothing about his citizens!

And he was sure to know this fact known.

"Alfred!" Britain's tone was harsh, he cut the words from his colonies throat and caused him to stiffen.

He gave him a look, _that _look. The look of an angry parent wanting to punish a child in the wrong.

"Lord Brinton..." He began calmly. "I apologies for my company, I assure you that this won't be happening again. The two of us must be off now. Lets speak again soon." Bidding the man a hasty goodbye, the empire turned around and began walking south. "Alfred!" He called sharply for the boy to follow, and after swallowing hard, he did.

The island nation marched a few blocks before turning back into the house where he held the elaborately carved wooden door open for Alfred to step in before him.

Timidly, the colony did so. He did nothing but stare at the back of his mentor, not knowing what to say. Britain was upset; Alfred had spoken out of turn. He had not meant to but he could not allow some man, some man who knew absolutely nothing , to speak that way about his people!

"Lad..." He spoke softly, refusing to turn and face his colony. Alfred jumped. He knew what would be coming, it was inevitable , the usual punishment...

He thought back, back to the days of heavy tension between the man before him and himself not even a year after his failed revolution. The first of the events to come...

_"Britain!" He began, he wanted to explain himself and justify his actions. However the man simply walked away, walked into the house and up the stairs of the colonial home without a word to the other. The floor boards squeaked with his weight, the only sign that the light footed man was present._

_"Britain listen to me!" Alfred was nearly frantic as he jogged up the stairs behind him. "You can't expect me to sit and do nothing while-" A sharp pain stung his cheek, turning it a horrid shade of red that hurt hellishly as he poked at it before looking into the stinging green eyes of his mentor perched at the top the stairs. Alfred pouted and slowly followed the man into the hall._

_"I did, and I will expect you to conduct yourself in a manner which is dignified!" The red coated man yelled._

_"But those were my people! My delegates! The people I fought beside and stood next to! Damnit those were my friends!" He yelled back only to receive another slap in the face._

_"YOUR people? Look at you Alfred, you're a mere colony! YOU have no people!" Britain yelled. "Those were my subjects who committed treason against the crown! The punishment for treason is death you know that!" He informed. "Why do we continue to have this conversation Alfred?"_

_"You don't understand!"_

_"What is there to understand? Treachery is treachery, they're already dead. What do you want me to do?"_

_Alfred stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what actions to take. He was right. They WERE dead. He watched them all die one by one, and finally on the last day of the "trials" General Washington was sentenced to hang._

_That was when he lost it. He was unable stay composed as he watched the men kick the stool from Washington's feet, as the man, so proud and strong fell no more than two feet to his death. He said no words as he was led to the tree, nor as the rope was tied. He only scanned the faces of the crowd, still proud, still strong. Alfred however could see the worry in his eyes, not for himself but for his country._

_By his death they were no closer to freedom, no closer to what they fought so hard to achieve..._

_In fact, the moment his eyes fell upon Alfred, the very personification of the country he loved, standing solemnly beside Arthur his eyes fell._

_ Had he given up hope?_

_Alfred wanted to call out to him, wanting to know what he was thinking. But before his eyes got the opportunity to arise he'd fallen, fallen with a small jolt to his death.._

_America cried._

_He cried out of shame, out of guilt, out of grief. He cried because his people were crying._

_Why couldn't Britain understand? His rage was not directed at him nor his people, he wasn't acting out to make the man furious, but merely because he was angry at himself..._

_Furious at his own failure._

_"I'm sorry lad. But it had to be done..." The older nation brought his hand to his lips in a small, yet endearing gesture. "Orders are orders you know that. George wanted the leader of the rebel army hanged, what would you have me to do?"_

_"I didn't want to see my friends all die..." Alfred confessed. Not wanting to look into the face of his colonizer._

_"I know you didn't, love. But it's alright. Now that the final remnants of that nasty rebellion have been subdued we can focus on what's important again..."He smiled softly at him. _

_"But this IS important! " He snatched his arm away from Britain's "You can't just brush this off! We can't play house forever Britain! Why can't you accept that I want to be inde-"_

**_Crack_**

_That was the sound of the gloved fist of the British Empire making swift contact with the face of his colony, the force was enough to push him to the ground._

_A year._

_It had been a whole year since his revolution failed._

_An entire year stuck playing house with this man. Waiting for change that would never come, acting as if nothing was wrong, trying to hide his pain, his humiliation. _

_He couldn't' do it anymore! He tried as hard as he could but..._

_That look._

_That look on Washington's face..._

_He tried to get up, he wanted to fight but a heavy boot on his chest prevented his wishes._

_"When will you stop treating me like a child?!" He yelled. His eyes burned with fury and rage, rage directed at the British Empire._

_"When you stop acting like one?!" Alfred wasn't the only one who could muster that amount of anger in his eyes, he wasn't the one who could lower his voice to match that rage, however Arthur had one things that Alfred did not. Control._

_"How could I act like an adult if you keep treating me like a little kid!" Britain pressed hard against his chest and glared daggers at his colony. The disrespectful little twit._

_Roughly, Britain pulled his colony from the ground. He glared into his ungrateful blue eyes._

_Had the death of this one man really caused him so much turmoil? Such a violent rage? He attacked the British officers! What could he have done? He hated to punish him but the boy needed to learn! He couldn't go around attacking people with such...fury._

_He knew the boy had strength but his display was unbelievable._

_Was this really it? _

_Would Alfred never love him again?_

_Could he do something? Anything? _

_He needed to show him, show him that he loved him..._

_What caused this?_

_Why? Arthurs eyes searched for answers however he received none. What was their connection? What had they been doing? Was this what all his hard work would amount to?_

_"I see then" A small smirk formed over his lips. "so THATS it hmm boy?"_

_"What are you talking about?" He struggled against the hold of his mentor._

_"If you're old enough for THAT than.." He dragged his gloved hand over the face of the colony, lightly thumbing his cheek._

_"Perhaps I will treat you like an adult as you wish..."_

_"What are you talking about? Let me go!"_

_The empire kept a firm grip on his colony, not allowing him free. Not until he was taught a lesson._

_With little more than a sadistic smile the empire pulled Alfred in for a violent, forceful kiss._

_Alfred jumped slightly at his actions, he fought to pry himself from the rough kiss the but he was weak against the empire, the British man did not allow that to happen. Easily he dominated the colony, forgoing his wishes and forcing a wet tongue past his lip, hands doing as they pleased; exploring chest of his colony._

_Alfred felt his body go numb, he knew not what to do. What was happening? He didn't understand... _

_A strange sensation filled him as he felt the foreign object move about his mouth, leaving no spot untouched._

_Finally, the older man separated from him with a long line of saliva still connecting to two. He watched Alfred shrink back with a heavy blush. A confused look worked its way across his handsome face. Eyebrows knit together, lips slightly ajar as he stood in a daze. _

_"Or perhaps you're simply a boy lost in the world of men" He smirked. Alfred was still unable to say anything, unable to move, unable to remove the taste of tea and sweets from his mouth. It had been several moments before the boy used his sleeve to wipe his lips and look shocked at the island nation who did little more than smirk in delight._

_Roughly he grabbed the face of his colony, he squeezed his cheeks and smirked at him._

_" You want to be treated like a man then so be it..."_

_Alfred did not know the meaning behind the threatening words, only when he was dragged into the empires bed room and caught in another lip lock did he begin to comprehend._

_The man's hands worked quickly to slide off the others coat, allowing it to drop on the floor._

_Alfred tried to speak upon their separation over was unable to over the series of feverish kisses he received across his face._

_"America" he heard Britain whisper with a tone foreign to him, lust? "Beautiful America" He stared into the eyes of his colony, those lovely blue eyes, bluer than the sky. Those beautiful immoral eyes..._

_He smirked._

_Was he wrong to want those wondrous blue orbs to shine with love for him once more?_

_Was he wrong to want his colony to be in his arms, telling him words of affection as he used to?_

_Was it wrong for him to want America to love him again?_

_No. Of course not._

_He wanted things to stay how they had been, the happy days full of joy. When Alfred would greet him happily at the door, when the young colony would hug him and tell him how much he loved the elder, when he would crawl into his bed out of fear of the dark..._

_Alfred was the one who ruined it! He was only trying to get things back on track! But Alfred was ungrateful! All he wanted was to go back to the days when he was loved._

_He wanted to be loved, needed to be loved..._

_That's what he told himself as he pinned his former colony to the bed, delivering sweet, delicious kisses along his neck._

_Alfred was whimpering. He was moaning softly out to him; was it in pain or in pleasure?_

_Don't worry Alfred, big brother will kiss all the pain away..._

_Just like he used to..._

Alfred had not known it at the time, but their _encounters _would gradually increase. Arthur viewed it as a reminder of his love for him; Alfred as attempt to 'make up' for the punishment, even now the sting of the black eye he received at the doorway could be felt-but it would be gone by tomorrow.

Alfred could not help but think of his first encounter with this man, who behind him bucked his hips furiously, groaned rhythmically into his ear and whispered sweet nothings as his body heated.

Alfred tried not to complain as the bed beneath him squeaked and shook with the two bodies occupying it. Or as his own body betrayed him and reacted in ways that he had no control over.

He was the property of the British Empire, Arthur could do what he wanted and Alfred didn't have a say.

If Britain wanted to 'remind' Alfred of how much he loved him (in a strictly platonic way of course) then all the younger could do was accept it...

* * *

***Cries in the corner of guilt***

**O-Ok, we can talk about this! Don't hate me! Don't throw things! I'm sorry!**

**I know that Arthur isn't like this but it's all for the story, (I feel so bad about it...) but it is an AU after all and Arthurs a bit...different than he used to be, he's running off of an emotional trauma that runs quite deep (we'll see that more later)**

**But speaking of Arthur...it's obvious that his feelings for Alfred are rather...disturbed.**

**A-anyway I hope it was enjoyable for you all.**

**Next time it's off the Germany were things get really...heated.**

**Please review and tell me what you think! Constructive not destructive criticism.**

**BTW: I'm having a bit of trouble trying to figure out just what genre this belongs too, can you call help me out?**

**Bye bye for now!**

**XOXOXOXO**


	7. Chapter 6

**Hey all! This is the next update!**

**So...I found out what Dubcon was, don't laugh at me I really didn't know!**

**Then, I figured that that was the perfect word to describe America and Britain's sexual encounters...or is it? **

**Anyway...I'm happy you see all the favorites and Alerts. I'm glade everyone's enjoying but um...review? Please.**

* * *

_Entry 14_

_Date: XXXXXX_

_I've found a possible ally in my quest to take down the British Empire, he is a descendent of the Great Roman Empire as well as someone well acquainted with France so he must be strong. Today I plan to cross the border to meet him. My brother has confirmed the strange lack of guards on the Italian side..._

_Entry 14 II_

_Date: XXXXXX_

_This man is an idiot! There is no way I can ally myself with him! It seems like for now it is only Prussia, and I. That man-child is very strange: he does nothing but eat pasta and manufacture white flags! There are barley any British Soldiers in his land because he does nothing! There is no way possible that we would be of any use him in this war. Tomorrow I will try Austria (once more) however I doubt he will be of much use..._

_France still hasn't responded to my pleas for help. I felt that because he is close to my brother that he would have more sympathy toward our situation..._

_Entry 21_

_Date: XXXXXX_

_Things are beginning to look up as France has officially agreed to aid us..._

_Entry 21 II_

_Date: XXXXXX_

_Italy allied itself with Germany..._

_Apparently pasta has been rationed in his home, I know this because he came to my house and cried about it all night! He is nothing but an incompetent airhead! Can he not see that this is bigger than pasta?_

_Entry 23_

_Date: XXXXXX_

_This is the third time I've woken up to find him in my bed. I do not understand this man in the least. He knows nothing about war. However he is a good cook and cleans up very nicely around the house when Prussia leaves messes. Nonetheless I need armies, not chiefs! He can't even follow basic instruction! Even I can't mold him into a warrior!_

_Knowing that I've kicked him out is the only thing that brings me peace in these horrible times. I feel as if the British are getting more brutal each day and my man power has been decreasing slowly over time._

_I don't know what to do._

_..._

Germany growled as he scribbled the final sentence in his diary entry before tossing the pen across the room with a heavy grunt.

No light shone through the heavy curtains of his office window, color seemed not to dare entering the small space . The walls were as white and barren as the room itself, which was stripped of everything but the bare essentials for work; a wooden desk, a bookshelf, a few candle sticks and his papers. One thing seemed out of place however, a small colorful globe which sat on the edge of his desk. It was the only attempt at decoration in the otherwise dull room.

Never before had the sphere been so interesting to him. He gently pushed along its axis, allowing him to view its entity.

"Is this hopeless?" He brushed a thumb over Germany, staring at his beautiful land on the map. His eyes dragged a short distance to Great Britain. He grimaced.

Filled with a sudden rage he took the globe into his hands and pitched it at the wall, cracking it immediately. He didn't want to look at it. He did not want to see a world nearly dominated by a single island nation. He could not bear to look at a world ruled by Britain.

He had to put an end to the senseless war and bloodshed that came with Britain's psychotic imperialism...

But what would he do?

The German man sunk down in his seat.

He had Prussia on his side (helpful, but not much) and he had France (helpful still) and that idiot (no help at all)

How could he possibly hope to even make a dent in Britain's defenses? Let alone defeat him? He knew that gaining allies and training troops would be a slow process, it would take years until he actually stood a chance because war was bloody, messy and long. However every day spent gaining no progress was another day that the British empire expanded, a day that they grew stronger. He wanted this to end as soon as possible, his people clearly did not want to continue living under the Union Jack. Their revolts had made that clear but a series of isolated events would not be enough to discourage Britain. He needed allies, he needed a plan. He would not have troops be sent out to a battle they could not win. History had shown that farmers and merchants would not be enough to defeat the empire, he needed to put an army together.

He knew it would be years in the making, but he was knew that a revolution would come.

Another heavy sigh escaped his lips as he thought, trying his best to form a plan perhaps speedier than the other. What would he do? What if no one would stand by him? What would happen?

He needed a drink.

Slowly, the blond rose from his seat. his body heavy with the looming feel of tiredness yet he simply could not afford to rest, not while his people were being tormented by the heavy presence of Britain, not while they lived in fear of prosecution and had their heritage stripped away from them. No. He would stand fight even if he was forced to do it alone. He would fight until his last breath was taken...

And by the way things have been going that may very well be the case.

Germany dragged himself from the dreary office and down the steps of his tidy little house. The man never needed much, he was happy with the simple things in life. His home would have had nothing but the essentials if it wasn't for his brother who brought home the strangest objects. While easing his way across the front room he noticed a strange colored item sitting on the table, beside it was several bags. What was Prussia up to now?

He decided that he didn't care and allowed his muscle memory to carry him across the wooden floor into the kitchen. He paid no attention to the water boiling on the stove, the bag of flour on the counter or the Italian singing lightly as he began to roll his sleeves, he only-

Germany stopped. He turned around and took in the situation: a strange Italian man cooking in his kitchen, singing...

It took moment however he could finally react properly.

"What the hell!" In one clean movement, the blond dove across the room and took the Italian by the collar. "What are you doing here dummkopf!" He knew he kicked him out this morning!

"Vee~ Germany! You forgot to leave the door open when I went out this morning!" The Italian smiled lazily. "But it's ok because Prussia gave me a key! Isn't that nice?"

Germany gave him a wide eyed stare.

"What?"

"I have a key to your house Germany! Isn't that great? This is fun! I've never had friends before!" He tossed his arms around the German who could only sigh in response. "Now I can come over as much as I want and I won't even have to bother you!"

This was going to be another typical day, unfortunately this became his norm. He wasn't sure that his head could take anymore of this. A small part of him, a very small part, relaxed under the hold of the smaller man. Being locked away in an office plotting the downfall of one's enemies was tiring work. The touch of another person felt almost foreign, yet welcoming to the German's unconscious. He felt at ease.

"What are you making? It's too early for pasta isn't it?" He pried himself out of Italy's death grip. "I thought you had to ration flour..?"

"But you have lots of it! Thank you for giving me your flour Germany! Ti amo!"

The taller nation sighed, he began to rub his temples.

"Yes yes I know..." He was going to kill Prussia the moment he saw him, but could not hold back the small smile forming on his, otherwise, stern face.

A loud knock sounded at the door and Germany heaved a sigh once more. Italy had gone back to singing and Prussia was nowhere to be seen. Even if he had been home he would not have opened the door.

Automatically he made a slow descend to his doorway where outside he had two unexpected guests waiting...

...

The trip to Berlin was long and tiring. I begun early with a train ride to the docks, then a boat trip across the Channel, where Alfred mostly slept. Later, the pair arrived at Belgium, a country which was neutral yet swayed under the pressure of British rule. From there they took a train which would take them across the border to Germany and eventually into Berlin. England had many trains, railroads connected every major city in the county, but the machine was foreign to the colony. It was his first time on a luxury train as well as his first trip to continental Europe as far as the empire knew. He felt amazed as the scenery went by. He knew Britain was planning to build railroads in his land, however the development of one has yet to start.

Britain could not help but smile as he watched the curiosity work into his colonies eyes.

This brought back many memories.

Memories of America as a small lad on his first boat trip, wearing the same look of curiosity and astonishment on his face...

The empire became warm with his thoughts as he stared at his colony and watched him as he looked around. Was it cruel that he craved his affection? Greedy that he wanted the boy to look at him as he once did? Ask questions such as 'what does that do?' Or 'can I see that?'

He only wanted his little brother back, the one that would reach for his hand and hold it. The only one who would hold his hand. The only person who didn't reject him...

Alfred's hand was like a holy place that his own was unworthy to go to. If he would be offended by his touch than he had his lips, his lips like blushing pilgrims prepared to make things better with a kiss*

Oh God he wanted to hold Alfred's hand!

The ride was silent between them for the most part, Britain had brought along Shakespeare to help cure the boredom and Alfred slept.

Britain wanted the boy to lay rest in his lap as opposed to the hard possibly cold window that had been propping him up across the booth. He watched the summer scenery go by but could not hold back his thoughts.

Why was he so resistant?

He loved Alfred with all of his heart but the boy always seemed to tremble beneath his touch and shy away from him.

Why did he still hate him when he did everything in his power to make him comfortable? To make him happy? He gave him everything he wanted did he not?

Was it not Alfred that asked him to stay with him more often?

Why did he think he worked so hard to unite the world? So he wouldn't have to leave him!

Why didn't he understand? Why had he gotten tired of waiting? Why did he have to separate himself? England thought these things and more as he gazed longingly at his colony, wanting nothing more than him to understand, yearning for the love he showed him as a child.

It was the first time he felt such love and he never wanted it gone but Alfred snatched it away while he was busy working for his benefit!

Why didn't he love him anymore? That's what the empire could never understand!

With a sigh the man closed his book and stood. Gently, he leaned and placed a simple kiss on the cheek of his young colony. He loved him so much.

Isn't this what Alfred wanted?

He smiled as he gently caressed his pale skin.

"I love you Alfred..." He began softly as he sat beside his leaning company in the private booth. His hand running against the others pant leg. He smiled. "I won't let anything come between us Alfred. You're mine. Mine, and I intend to keep it that way. I'll love you forever, just as you always wanted me too..." He leaned for another kiss, his lips brushing against the younger's, assaulting them with a subtle force over and over. Until he noticed the colonies eyes open, his cheeks as pink as his abused lips.

"Hello sunshine..." Arthur whispered.

Alfred sat up and adjusted his body so he would face his mentor, who licked his lips in return before wrapping his strong arms around the Americans neck and bringing him in for another series of kisses. Alfred hummed lowly as their lips found each other. His own half lidded eyes could not help but notice the look of discontent, of discomfort in his mentors, the same as always.

Why? Why couldn't just be happy?

Slowly, the colonies arms snaked around Britain's waist , earning him a slight moan from his empire who then separated from him. There was that same look again, that look which he could not put a name to.

Inwardly Arthur sighed as he gazed into the hungry eyes of his colony.

"You are beautiful America..." A finger ran across the colonies jaw line. His eyes lowered. Must I say again how he detests being treated like a woman?

"I love you..."

"I know..." Britain was delighted at his response...

...

After fixing themselves and having an odd encounter with a blushing Belgium woman, that the personifications left the train and spent the rest of the night in a small Inn in a city.

The next day was fairly similar, except a woman with a sweet tray came around and Arthur ended up buying its entire contents for his young colony to enjoy .

The second day was much shorter than the first, having covered most of the distance already. Once the train stopped the two left, eventually found a carriage to take them through the city and to the averaged sized home...

_..._

"Yes-" The German's breath caught itself in his throat as he glanced at his visitors.

Automatically his mind shut down. What was going on? What was _he_doing here? "Britain" He began...

"Germany, you look...nice..." The empire smirked as he took in the taller mans appearance in full. His eyes were tired, he wore the contorted white shirt and blue vest from yesterday , his black trousers wrinkled and hair lazily brushed back in a half hearted attempted to manage it, yet he managed a crooked smile to hide his surprise and discontent with the situation. He stepped aside and allowed Britain, and the other young man into his home.

"What brings you to Germany?" He questioned. Was he on to him? Did he know? What would he do? Should he prepare to defend himself? He kept his defenses up.

"I thought I should pay a personal visit, to look into the _situation_here..." He took it upon himself to take a seat in the living room, immediately making himself comfortable on the loveseat. Germany grimaced. His eyes turned toward to the other blond standing in the room and raised a slight brow.

It was a young man, he stood tall and strong however it was clear to him that this was no human attendant. His eyes were an impossible shade of blue, his hair the perfect color of ripened wheat. No. This man was a country. But which one? And why did Britain bring him along?

"Ludwig, have you met Alfred? He's my American colony..." Arthur introduced. An instant rage built inside the man as the empire called out his human name. His hand balled itself in a tight fist and his eyes narrowed. He could not stop the involuntary shaking of his body as his anger built inside of him. The American man took small step forward, setting his eyes on the German across from him in an automatic response. The actions of a perfectly groomed solider. Germany glared at America. He noticed the hand gun latched on his side alongside a long sword. Despite his status as a colony he was dressed in a manner which seemed almost regal...

Right. He knew of America, Britain's lapdog.

He could see now that the rumors were true...

"Germany, do you have any-" Italy paused as he walked into the room.

Scheiße! He'd forgotten about Italy!

The Italian began to panic, arms flailed around, (closed) eyes watered, and incoherent sounds could be heard from his mouth as everyone turned his way. He screamed.

"Italy...what a pleasant surprise, what are you doing here?" Britain voiced, his large brow raised in curiosity and suspicion.

"G-Germany invited m-me over s-sir" He informed. "W-We're friends, b-b-b-best friends actually! H-he takes care of me, and- and lets me cook pasta h-here!" He wanted to cry, although everything he told Britain was the truth (as he saw it) was scared out of his wits.

"I wasn't aware you two were friends..." His voice carried an air of suspicion as he leaned forward, adjusting himself to face Italy directly. The brunette nodded feverishly.

"Italy was just leaving..." Germany explained. "He needs to go and tend to his own home, right Italy?"

"Ve ve! Yes, that's right" Italy mustered. Germany mentally kicked himself. How could he have forgotten Italy? Britain was suspicious, that much was obvious. He would kill Italy the plan was ruined because of him!

"Why don't you stay Italy..." His request was more of a demand. Someone was up to something; and he planned to keep them under his watch until he found out what it was exactly.

Italy wanted to protest, however he could only muster a 'yes sir' before retreating into the kitchen.

"Would you happen to have tea?" Britain questioned from his seat.

"Ja. I'll make some..." Germany turned into the Kitchen, were Italy shivered over the boiling water, immediately clinging to Germany as he entered the kitchen.

"...keep an ear out" Britain's voice lowered as he spoke to America.

Something was going on, and the empire was determined to find out what is was...

The colony slid into the kitchen nearly unnoticed and could not help but smile at the sight.

Italy was panicked, he clung unto Germany who only tried to fight him off.

It was only by a small chuckle that the North American was noticed.

Italy eyed him curiously and Germany gave a slight glare.

"May I help you?"

"Britain wanted me to monitor his tea...he likes it a specific way..." He cleverly lied, flashing a nervous yet friendly smile at the others.

Italy smiled. Anyone who smiled at him couldn't be a bad guy, right?

"Ja, right..." Germany reached into the shelf and dusted off a box of tea that stored away on it.

"Italy, I'm using this water..." Germany informed. He did not have a tea pot, so the pan would have to do.

"Oh, alright..." Italy frowned, he was looking forward to making pasta but Britain was much more terrifying.

Instead he smiled at America. He'd never met a North American country before and was curious about the 'new world'

Excitedly he began to chat up the other as German listened carefully.

"What's your name?"

"Alfred..." He replied simply, but Italy frowned, he was taken aback really. Never has he met a country that didn't introduced them self as such. Did he really think so little of himself?  
"But...you're not a country?" He questioned. Italy found it strange, he was positive that this man was like he, Germany and Britain, why didn't he tell him his actual name and not his human one? Surely around other countries he should be free to introduce himself as the person he was!

"Well...I'm a British Colony" He tried to explain.

"I'm British territory! But I'm still Italy, Italy Veneziano!" He bounced. "I have a brother named Italy Romano~"

"Leave him be Italy." Germany muttered as he poured the leaves into the boiling water, probably much more than he should have. "He's Britain's lapdog, he's been stripped of any identity he may have had..."

The colony narrowed his eyes, shooting a glare at the German before turning to Italy.

"I'm America... " He felt unsure, however his mood soon shifted to one of satisfaction. Italy was actually interested in him, this was a foreign experience...

And he liked it.

"I have a brother too, his names Canada and he lives North of me, I guess he's kind of like my hat..." He smiled at the thought of his brother. He sent a letter off right before leaving, hopefully he'd have time to write him while he was here...

"I knew it! Because I didn't know you I knew that you had to be from the New World!" Italy cheered. "It's nice to meet you! You're not as scary as Britain!"

"Nice to meet you too Italy..."

"Germany! Germany! Have you met America?!" He turned to his companion, having not heard his previous comment. Germany did not turn around, his mind occupied with poring the tea from the pan into the small tea cup.

"Ja." Was his only response as he grabbed the small bag of sugar cubes and poured them into a little saucer.

Italy continued to chat with America and Germany took the tea to Britain in the other room who inspected it closely.

"Will that be all?"

"You can show Alfred to the room we'll be staying in..."

With what seemed to be an twitch, and he grumbled an 'of course' the Germany stompped away into the kitchen.

"America!" He growled, earning the full attention of the colony. "I'll show you to your room."

Italy gasped.

"You're staying!" A wide smile overcoming his features. "yaay!"

Germany rolled his eyes before walking away followed closely by America and Italy, the latter who was called while crossing the front room.

Italy stopped, his body shook at the mention of his name by Britain who merely called again.

"Italy"

"Y-yes?"

"Come."

Italy looked to Germany to protect him, looking as if he would cry at any moment only to be motioned away by the burly German.

"Y-yes..." Italy zig zagged to Britain while the former pirate shooed the others away.

"This way." Germany led America up the stairs at a quicker pace then what he originally planned. Italy wouldn't survive moments alone with Britain, he'd reveal the plan!

Quickly he went up the stairs and down the hall, America cautiously following behind...

* * *

**Hmm...well, this was nice.**

**Slowly these chapters seem to be getting longer and longer...**

**How could Germany in a story and not put it Italy?**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Review Please! **


	8. Chapter 7

**Hey all, here's that next chapter. I'm so tired and hungry that I'll just start~**

**I do not own Hetalia its characters nor themes... (I do however own the Axis Powers box set!)**

* * *

"Italy"

A sly smile worked upon the empires face as he stared across the room. Watching, with malicious intent, his territory tip toe toward him.

"Don't kill me Bretagna! I'm a virgin! I-I have family in England! Scotland too!" He began to panic, going on and on about things that Britain had no interest in. His ramblings evoked a sigh from the empire who humored himself for a few moments before choosing to silence the younger man.

"Italy." He called once more. The rambling stopped but his tears did not. Somehow through his closed eyes Italy's tears flowed down his face in a rather comical manner."Please sit..." The empire gestured toward the faded blue chair across from the loveseat he occupied, separated only by a wooden coffee table which held a rather strange item in its center. What is that? Germany didn't seem like the type to collect such...oddities. He had a brother did he not? Prussia. Oh yes. He was a rather eccentric one, the item was probably his.

Italy did what he was told without a word of protest and Britain smiled, drawing his attention back to the younger man. No words were exchanged, he merely smiled.

"Tea?"

"N-No thank you..." Italy wasn't big on drinking tea, he was much happier with a glass of wine.

"But I insist." The blond pushed his untouched tea cup across the table for the Italian, who looked at it curiously before picking it up. The drink could be ok every once and a while right?

Slowly and shakily he put the cup to his lips and began to swallow down the hot liquid, cringing slightly at its bitterness. Germany was a terrible tea maker.

"Tell me Italy, just how did you and Germany meet?" The Italian personification turned to the disinterested gaze of the empire.  
"Ve~ H-He came to my house to visit."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"He said that he was interested in meeting me."

"Is that so? For what purpose?"

Italy thought it over, replaying the initial meeting in his mind and thinking of what Germany told him,

_"I did not come here to make friends, I came here for a military alliance!"_

_"Alliance?"_

"H-he only wanted to make friends..." Italy began to fidget, his voice growing quiet as he spoke. Germany would get into trouble if he told Britain the truth, and if he got Germany in trouble he wouldn't want to be friends with him!

Germany basically told him they'd be allies, and allies meant friends. Italy nodded to himself as he thought over it once more, assuring himself that he was correct.

"Friends?" Britain's eyes narrowed as he glared across the room at Italy, "Tell the truth Italy; why did Germany really visit you? You can tell me the truth, no one will hurt you"

"G-Germany wanted..." He looked down into his lap. What would he do? He didn't want Germany to stop being his friend, he liked Germany!

No. No, Germany couldn't leave him. He didn't want the burly man to go! If he left him, if he abandoned Italy than he would be alone.

Italy didn't want to be alone anymore, he didn't want anyone else to leave him.

Not like Granpa Rome, and not like...

He shook his head at the thoughts and frowning once more. He had to protect Germany!

But...Britain was scary!

"Italy?"

"Pasta!" He yelled instinctively. He flushed. Really Italy? Was that all he could bring himself to say!

"Excuse me?" Britain was taken by the brunettes sudden outburst, but he could hear the footsteps from upstairs returning and frowned.

"P-pasta...Germany wanted supplies, like food, like pasta!"

Supplies.

They were getting somewhere.

"Supplies for what?"

"F-For his people...h-he wanted to get them help!"

Britain was silent for a moment. He began to observed the Italian, why was he so...fidgety?

He was clearly nervous, scared actually, with good reason to be! He _was_ the British empire after all.

Britain began tapping his fingers on the arm rest. Was this shaking Italian telling the truth?

He would have to investigate further, ask more questions, keep an ear out, however for now he would have to be content...

_..._

The rest of the day's events were without incident. After his talk with Italy, Britain decided to tour the house, Italy made the decision to calm himself by cooking, Germany remained to himself and America wandered around checking for anything suspicious. He chatted up Italy and somehow managed to built a wall of tension between Germany and himself.

Prussia eventually came home and decided it was best for him to stay in the basement until dinner.

Upon spotting Alfred, he could only sigh and shake his head. The two met before, he actually helped train America to fight Britain but...

He and his undoubted awesome could not help but feel disappointed. He put a lot of work into training him, and he was under the impression that America could actually defeat the empire, however the colony, in his eyes, amounted to little more than a puppy for the very empire he strived so hard to get himself away from. That was not awesome.

The days continued to go by with minimal amounts of trouble. Everything turned itself into a routine. A routine with minimal variation.

Britain would go out and meet with the army general, Alfred would stay home and keep his eyes and ears open for any information. Germany would make snide comments about him, Prussia would come out and be a pest, Italy would cheerfully talk to him and show him things, it was a perfectly set habit.

When Britain came home he would crawl into bed and Alfred wouldn't bother him at all. He allowed a heavy silence to overcome to room and would stay with him until Italy was done with his daily nap and joined him in the kitchen.

Britain worked hard for his country, for his empire , and Alfred knew that his role was to support him. Everyone played a role. To Britain, everything was nothing more than an elaborate game, a game of chess where everyone was a pawn and he was the king. A game where he was the only winner.

While Italy napped, America would go back to his room to rest. However he could never sleep because he would always find himself thinking. He thought about his life and things he wanted to do, he thought about his home and what everyone he knew was up too, he wondered how long he would be in Germany, he thought about Britain and how he was working so hard for his people while he stayed here and did nothing...

He always began thinking and reflecting upon his unrecognized dream, his childhood ambition, his secret that he never told anyone else, his dream of being a hero.

As a child would imagine himself as the hero who boldly went out and had amazing adventures, saved people, brought home treasures, and did great things. He wanted to be great, a great nation just as Britain was...

He looked back upon his dream as a child, his dreams of being a hero, not only for his people but he wanted to be a hero for Britain. He wanted to be the heroic and dashing knight who protected the king. He never told anyone, but in his imagination he was the hero and Arthur played the role of his love.

Because he was a knight, Arthur would be the king that he protected, the prince he saved, the one he would always come home too in the end, the one he always wanted to be with, the one he wanted to marry.

Alfred shoved those thoughts far back into his mind where they belonged, they would lead to nothing but trouble. After all, his childhood was over and Britain made it very clear before his failed revolution that he wanted nothing to do with him, that he was only something to boss around, take from and nothing else.

He would never be his hero, the gap between them was far too great. He was out protecting his empire and here he was doing all of the grunt work. It wasn't fair. He was nothing more than his lap dog and he hated it.

Alfred let out a bitter sigh. Why did he feel this way? It wasn't right! He should hate Britain for putting him though everything he did, hate him for controlling his life, hate him for being stronger than him, hate him for forcing him to be at his side, hate him for knowing, hate how he manipulated his feelings to make him do what he wanted.

He hated the way he touched him, the way he made him feel, the way his messed up mind figured that he could simply fuck him and all would be forgiven because of his adolescent obsession with him...

Arthur was a crazed, egotistical, horrible man who did all those things to him because of his sick and twisted need to be in power! He didn't give a damn about other people, just himself!

He only 'loves' Alfred because that's how he feels he can control him best.

He was so horrible it hurt...

Yet...

His mind continued to wander, trying to make an emotion out of that look. That look he was never able to put a name too, what was that look?

It wasn't...pain was it?

No. That was impossible. Alfred knew that he was untouchable, that he could not hurt him, that no matter what he did he would be stuck playing house with him forever...

It hurt to look into those eyes and see nothing but false love for him...

_ "I want to make it hurt."_

There was so much pain and heartache in the times before his revolution, every time he was left alone by the man who called himself his brother, every time he watched him leave on that boat, every time he was forced to say 'good bye,' it made his heart grow hard, made him grow bitter.

He hated Britain for leaving him, for abandoning him, for making him alone. He hated feeling lonely and forgotten.

He wanted to hurt Britain, oh God he wanted to hurt him badly! He wanted to see the broken hearted look on his face when he left him for once! It was the only thing he wanted, to make him feel as forlorn as he felt with him away, then maybe he could have understood what it was like for him...

_"I don't want to love him anymore..."_

It was that very desire that led him to spite England and his love for him the one way he knew how. He-

Alfred shut his eyes, forcing those thoughts from his mind. He didn't want to think of that, nothing good would ever come out of thoughts like that. Nothing good could ever come out of thinking back to the past. Canada was right, he did get carried away when it came to Britain.

He needed to pretend that everything was alright so everything would be, continue on as they were because everything was alright...

He could not rest because of the thoughts that plagued him, those horrible thoughts that made his heart stop and blood boil.

Instead he attempted to turn his feelings to home. Were his people well? Was Mexico bothering them? She's kind of a nut and he shuttered at the thought of having to deal with her when he arrived home. ( some odd reason, he) really wanted to just snatch those glasses off her face! But that was a story for another day...

However, today was different. Today he had no time to think or even rest because he _found _something.

He'd been in Germany for about two weeks and he hadn't written his brother once! So immediately, he hopped out of the bed, breaking the routine he carefully built for himself, and searched around the desk for paper, unfortunately there was none.

He sighed and left the room. Alfred desperately needed to come into contact with his older, wait, his younger? It was never made clear to him who was the eldest. He was embarrassed to admit that this was the first time it's ever occurred to him...he decided that he was older but would ask Britain later just in case, but anyway he needed to write him! Otherwise the Canadian would think something unspeakably horrible happened to him and would immediately place the blame on Britain.

The Empire was always good to Canada, he wasn't treated badly nor manipulated in any possible way. Alfred didn't want trouble brewing in their relationship because of him.

After walking through the narrow halls, he came to a closed door. Germany spent a lot of time in this room, was it his office? If it was he was sure it had paper.

The American shrugged and knocked on the door. Would he give it to him?

No reply.

He knocked again.

No reply.

Slowly he twisted the knob and peeked in, the German man was nowhere in sight.

He remembered Britain checking this room for anything suspicious, however he came out empty handed and didn't really bother with it again.

It was dark and cold and just as plain as the rest of the house. Germany really needed color in his life. Even someone as stuffy as Britain knew the greatness of color! He was always wearing red, Alfred assumed that it was his favorite...

America looked around. Surely there would be paper in here and Germany wouldn't miss one scrap piece would he? Of course not he wouldn't even notice it!

The American smiled as he found a large stack of paper buried under a stack of books on the side of the desk, he took one, or a few, off the top before something caught his attention. One of the floor boards stuck up ever so slightly. It was something which would have gone unnoticed if he hadn't moved the chair aside and stepped on it by mistake. Normally he would ignore it, but Germany was so uptight and orderly that he couldn't help but think he would have gotten it fixed a long time ago. Curiosity then hit him and he stepped on the floor piece, slowly and softly, trying his best to push it down but to no avail, it only came up once more. Was that the reason why chair was place on top of it? So he wouldn't have to deal with it? There had to be something pushing it up however, so carefully Alfred reached down and pulled on the stubborn piece.

There were a bunch of written letters, he couldn't read them but he knew that paper wasn't strong enough to push up a floorboard, unless of course there were really that many which he doubted. Under a few of the papers sat a thin leather book.

He touched the binding carefully.

What should he do? It seemed to be a journal of some sort.

Take it?

Run?

Pretend he didn't see it?

Maybe read a few pages?

He listened out carefully. No one was coming.

America took the book into his hands, opened it, and ran his eyes over the lines.

He couldn't really read German, but some of the words were familiar.

He squinted.

That word...Frankreich, didn't that mean France?

Bruder was Brother and Italein was Italy. That much he knew.

France, Prussia, Italy and Germany? He could recognize the word for night.

Looking at the date numbers, this was an entry for today.

That wasn't suspicious at all.

America frowned. He closed the book and glanced at it hesitantly, then by instinct he took it into his hands, after fixing everything as it was, rushed into the room he stayed in, shut the door behind and tossed the thing down. He sat at the desk and continued to look at the pages upon pages of written content.

He wasn't sure what it said.

Giving it to Britain was his first instinct, he was confident that he could read German and would know exactly what it said, then he'd stop whatever heinous scheme that was being hatched.

But the more he the waited for Britain, the more he began to think...

He would never be the hero, especially if he continued to rely on Britain! He would sit and do nothing.

He would never be able to protect him or be his hero...

If he didn't take action then their relationship would never change...

Then he thought of what Britain would do if this was a scheme to overthrow him. He would slaughter Germany, Prussia and Italy! Italy was the first friend he made in years! (and the only nation who treated him as such aside for Canada of course) he couldn't let Britain do that!

But...

Britain was his caretaker, he looked over all his colonies and territories and made sure they were taken care of.

But most of them didn't want to be colonized by him to begin with and he was crazy...

What would he do?

...

Alfred wasn't sure how long he sat, staring at the pages of unreadable text or how much time he spent fingering the leather binding.

His mind was too preoccupied, too busy thinking of it. He wanted to put it down in favor of going back to his daily routine, to think about his hopes and dreams of someday being able to fly high in the sky, he swore to himself that he would make it happen! But...

The book.

He stared at it and the book stared back. Mocking him. Teasing him.

_"What will you do hero?" _It mocked._ "Will you hand me over to your precious empire and receive praise? You'll probably be ruing hundreds of lives if you tell that crazy man..."_

_"Or will you save all those people by risking the life of the man who raised you? The one who, despite all his faults, works hard for you and everyone else? The one you want to be loved by?"_

_"What will you do hero?"_

_"What will you do?"_

No. No. America didn't like this. He glared down at the book in his hand and wished that he never came across it at all.

As his mind fought to deem itself a decision, the door knob twisted. Without a second thought the colony stuffed the offending object under a bunch of papers and looked at the man sauntering across the room, tired in expression, yet proud by nature.

The man didn't say anything as he peeled off his red jacket and tossed it carelessly across the room. No. He crawled into bed without a word.

The room was silent as usual.

Alfred tried his best not to bother the older gentlemen when he came home because he always seemed tired, besides what would they have to talk about?

But today the silence between them was unbearable. He could hear the mocking laughter from the book, its pages dying to tell its secrets.

Alfred couldn't take it, he wanted to get his mind off of it and thus began to speak.

"Hey Britain...how's your day been?"

For a moment, he thought the other man did not hear him but before too long he replied.

"...busy"

Britain would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised at his colonies question, Alfred was never one to start conversation with him and he hadn't asked him about his day since he was small...

"Yes, very busy...what have you over there lad?"

"Oh, I'm writing a letter to Canada...do you want me to tell him hi for you?"

"...sure"

"Okay..."

Britain mused, what was going on? Why was he acting so...different? The change felt welcome but...he was also worried.

"Are you feeling alright lad? Do you feel under the weather? Are you homesick?"

"No. I-It's lonely without you around is all..."

Britain felt a pang within his chest. He frowned and sat up.

"I'm sorry lad, next time you can come along with me."

"It's ok...um..." He glanced to the side where the book peaked out. Should he give it to him?

"Is there something else bothering you?"

"No." He was quick to say. Britain shot him a curious glance and wondered what was going on. What was Alfred thinking? He couldn't tell.

Alfred turned to face him, a small smile plastered on his face. It was an expression that Britain hadn't seen in a while. When was the last time his colony smiled at him? A smile that didn't seem small and frightened? A smile that could nearly pass as real? Before the revolution?

America stood up and sat beside him on the bed, glancing down at his feet.

"What of your letter to Canada?"

"He can wait...just a little longer." Guilt and nervousness built inside of him, he needed to get away from it, what would he do?

Before he knew it, he throw his arms around Britain and embraced him in a hug. He felt the smaller man stiffen before he made a hasty pullback.

"I-I'm sorry!" Alfred shot up, nearly losing his balance as he did so, his cheeks stained pink as he blushed at the physical contact between them and turned away. Damnit why? Why did he always have to react like that? What was wrong with him?

Before the empire could speak, however, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Britain called. Italy poked his head through the ajar door and smiled faintly.

"What would you like for dinner?" He questioned. Was he blushing?

"Anything you make is fine." Britain informed him.

"Ve~ Ok!" He smiled once more, looking between the two.

"I'll help you with dinner Italy!" Alfred offered. He couldn't bring himself to stay in the room with Britain any longer, so he grabbed the paper stack, journal included, and nearly ran out the door to be with his Italian friend.

Britain sat for a moment, staring at the closed door.

Did Alfred just hug him? He shook his head and decided that it wasn't too important. The change in his personality was good, maybe he shouldn't question it and see where this leads. Perhaps this was a good sign, a sign that he was ready to accept him as his older brother once more?

The night was young and despite his tiredness, Britain needed to get work done. Italy knew the routine by now: he would bring his dinner upstairs for him to eat alone later as he worked, Alfred would come and take the dish downstairs and he would wash them...

Which was how everything went, save for the alone part.

He watched curiously as Alfred set his plate on his lap and began to pick at it from his space on the bed adjacent to the desk. What was his colony doing?

"Can I eat with you?"

"...It's 'may I' and...of course you can lad. What's the matter? Fight with Italy?"

"No, I just want to stay with you."

Dear lord there was that pang again. No, this one was slightly different. Alfred hadn't eaten with him voluntarily since his he small. Did he really want to be his younger brother again?

"Why would you want to do that?" He couldn't stop himself from asking. What was going on?

"N-no reason I...I just feel like I should. Is that alright?"

"Yes, of course it is...you just haven't eaten with me since you were a young boy."

"I know..."

It was silent again. Britain turned around and tried to focus on his work but soon found it impossible between the steaming plate of pasta and his colony. Britain decided to focus on his food and think about everything else later.

He felt content, more so then he did after conquering Spain even! He didn't know why, but maybe Alfred was starting to love him again...

And for that he was grateful.

After taking their plates downstairs and awkwardly running into a gigging Italy, Alfred entered the room to find Britain getting ready for bed.

Normally he was tasked with keeping watch of him, and today he was asked no different.

"You'll keep watch over me, won't you?" He asked.

"Of course I will..."

"...good."

He watched the empire bury himself under the blanket, he knew the other man suspected something of him, but he had not asked. Alfred sighed and waited, he would sleep during the day but for now he would keep watch over Britain, making sure that no harm became of him during the night.

They exchanged a light bidding of 'goodnights' before the empire kissed his forehead and tucked himself in.

Eventually he heard the light rhythmic breathing of his empire, letting him know that the other was asleep. Alfred crept to the chair beside the desk and sat down. The plaguing thoughts of that damn book occupied his mind.

He felt so guilty for hiding it, he wasn't sure what he would do with it at this point in time but for some reason he wasn't exactly fond of hiding things from his empire.

He sat and waited, not knowing how much time passed since the empire had fallen asleep, hours? minutes? He didn't know. The moon was still high in the sky, it was probably midnight.

He looked out at the world through the window and waited out the night.

Many moments came and gone and Alfred yawned.

It had to be around two in the morning at this point in time right?

Nothing should be awake...however, something was.

The colony blinked to see a moving figure descend into the woods. Squinting he could make out light colored hair cloaked by the darkness. He frowned. Was that Prussia? Suddenly, he remembered. Prussia, Germany, Italy and France. Night. Today. It hit him.

The four of them would be meeting tonight! Alfred stood and turned around, he glanced at Britain's sleeping form and immediately took a step back.

Britain was asleep and he couldn't be sure of anything could he?

"I'll be right back." He whispered lowly, despite knowing that the empire could not hear him regardless.

Alfred was sure to grab a gun as he slid from the room.

This was his chance! His opportunity to be a hero and he would not let this pass him by! Besides, he needed to know what was going on.

Because at this point, he had no idea who the bad guy really was...

* * *

**So...What did you think?**

**I hope you liked it! Tell me what you think ok?**

**Meanwhile I'm going to die from lack of food and sleep~**

**Bye Bye!**


	9. Chapter 8

**My apologies to all of you...**

**I feel as I should warn you: This chapter include: Sexual Situations, Abuse, Incest, and Rape ~ but nothing too graphic for my fear of it being taken down. And lots of flashbacks...**

**Continuity Reminder: Britain believes that this is America's first trip to continental Europe but we find out that that may or may not be true...**

**I do not own Hetalia in any way shape or form...**

* * *

The empire slept...

He was having a dream...

...

_"I-I hate you!" He whimpered._

_"Yeah? And I hate that fitly little face of yours!" Another kick, another blow to the head, another blow to his pride. England cried again louder as his brother beat him leaving his body battered, and bloodied._

_"Stop ya' crying!" He yelled. Green eyes fumed with anger as he glared down the broken nation beneath his feet. The wails of pain and sorrow did not stop and furthered the teens anger. The body of the small country shook and trembled. He tried, he tried so hard to get away from his brother who seemed to hate him so._

_Why?_

_Why didn't his brothers love him? Wales, Ireland, Scotland, each and every one hated him._

_He looked toward Scotland, gazing into his hateful expression._

_"Get out of here! No one wants you, you're filthy!" He spat._

_England struggled. He was so small, just a little nation but his older brothers constantly bared down on him. His very existence was nothing but a nuisance for them._

_The blond nation trembled as he stood under the menacing stare of Scotland's green eyes, the same colored eyes he himself possessed, he, along with the others._

_They were related. They were brothers. Yet they hated him._

_He shivered as he stared at Scotland who fumed with rage and hatred. But why? Why did he hate him so much?_

_"Nobody wants you, you accursed child! You're fitly!" He repeated. The wind rustled his unruly hair and the trees around them. "Go die!" He kicked his brother once more sending his small form tumbling into a bush before turning to leave the wood._

_England coughed a few times before regaining his senses. He tried to wipe his eye's yet tears continued to flow like rivers down his cheeks. He pulled on his cloak, grabbing his hood in order to cover his chubby cheeks, to hide his tears. He curled himself into a small ball and began to wail._

_Why? Why was he so hated? Why did everyone want to hurt him? Why didn't anyone want to be near him? What did he ever do?_

_He could not stop himself from weeping. He was alone. No one wanted him, why would they? He was cursed..._

_But..._

_Something rather strange happened that day however. This time, for whatever reason, his wails did not go unnoticed. Yet he cowered. What if it was Scotland again? What if it was Ireland? What if it was another hungry predator? England sniffled but did not move. What was the point? If it was an animal he would let it eat him this time..._

_"What is wrong?"_

_He turned around briefly, glancing to see the owner of the unfamiliar voice._

_He peeked and found himself staring into a pair gorgeous blue eyes._

_And he fell in love..._

...

France was blessed, or cursed, with a perfect memory. He needed but to think of a topic and everything about it would flow to the forefront of his mind. However, not all of his memories were clear and crisp. His picture perfect memory only went as far as a certain day of a certain year during a certain war that he hated to think about. It was that moment which, for some reason, burned itself into his mind and haunted his soul.

Of course, he could recall things from before that certain day, they just weren't as clear. Nothing would present itself more clearly in his mind than watching his beloved Jeanne burning alive...

France sighed. Why did such a memory have to resurface? Why now? He needed to get his mind off of such dreadful things, he needed to change the subject.

"So. You say that Angleterre brought little Amerique along with him?" He turned to Germany. The man nodded.

"Ja. Damn lap dog..."

"I see..." France chuckled to himself. "Do you think he will come?"

"Ja. I'm sure of it. However he probably won't be alone. I doubt he'll do anything without his master telling him so." The blond German crossed his arms over his chest and heaved a heavy sigh. He breathed in the cool night air and leaned against the trunk of a large tree. He stood with France, along with a tired Italy, in a small clearing in the wood. It was the most secluded place the German knew and France liked the trees. He learned how to use trees and nature to ones advantage in war from the Native Americans during the North American chapter of seven years war. If anything were to happen he was sure he would have an advantage even in his current condition. He hacked a loud, painful sounding cough into his handkerchief and sighed. He hated feeling so sick.

The context of the meeting changed. Germany found his diary, er, journal missing and figured that it was taken by the American. He sighed. How could he be so careless? He thought it was hidden well!

"Ah, ah. Don't be too quick to judge mon ami. He'll come, and he'll be alone..." The Frenchmen smiled.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because little Amerique is fond of Angleterre yes, but there is only one thing which surpasses his love for him. That is, his desire to hurt Angleterre..." A small smirk formed upon his lips as he remembered. He recalled the first time the American visited his home...

...

_"Please France, there is s no one else, listen to me!"_

_"I've heard you perfectly clear...however, for what reason would I aid you? Last time we met you were helping to drive me out of the new world. Besides, the way this war has been going it seems like an effort wasted. I won't send my people out into an impossible battle." France crossed his legs over his bright colored chair and glared at the boy in his parlor room. He was not in the mood for this today. "No matter how much I would like to see him crushed..."_

_To France, his people came first._

_"Please France...I-I need this. Please." He begged. His eyes caught fire, they burned with anger, with hatred, with frustration and with heartbreak. However France knew the look was not directed toward him. Those eyes were reflecting on someone else, something different, but this was a look that France had seen before. Not on America, but on another._

_Curiously, France propped his brow before asking;_

_"Why do you want this so badly? Because of a few taxes and quartered soldiers? There are much better reasons to go to war..."_

_"It isn't about taxes!" Why does everyone think that? It was more than that! "We want to be independent because we aren't treated fairly! We aren't represented and are treated as second class citizens-"_

_"This from a person who allowed slavery on his land for so long?"_

_"Britain got rid of that a long time ago!"_

_"I'm aware...however, I didn't ask the reasoning for your people...I want to know why you yourself wishes to fight so badly. I can see it in your eyes, there is something much more than a desire to right a wrong...you'll be hurting him...as well as yourself."_

_America's hand tightened into a fist and he growled._

_"That's the idea..."_

_Now France was interested. He leaned forward in his chair and eyed the colony curiously as he tapped his foot against the marbled floor._

_"Go on, big brother France is listening..."_

_"I-I want him to know how it feels! I want him to know what it's like to be abandoned and left alone! I want him to hurt the same way I've been hurting, I don't want him to boss me around acting like he owns me when he can't even stay with me!"_

_France was startled by his sudden outburst, frightened even. No wonder this war has been going on for several years already he had a lot of inner strength in him, as well as a plethora of anger._

_America was...disturbed. _

_Did he want his mentor to hurt so badly?_

_"I want to hurt him like he hurt me..."_

_Frances eyes opened wide. He nearly gasped at the malice filled words that were all too familiar to him._

"I'll hurt you like you hurt me."_ God. Those words..._

_France pried himself back to the conversation._

_France could understand not wanting to be bossed around but there was something else at work here and he was curious to find the full extent of it. However he could not help but remark, _

_"That is a feeling that Angleterre knows quite well already..."_

_"What?"_

_"Non. " He shook his head and began to massage his temples before looking up at the American colony. "Allow me to be honest. I do not like Angleterre, nor do I like you. However I am very curious to know the extent you are willing to go to bring harm to your mentor."_

_"I'd do anything..."_

_"Would you continue to fight him long after the war is over? Perhaps drag it out for many more years to come? Would you place yourself on the battlefield simply for the opportunity to fight and defeat him all over again?" France's tone began to darken. "Would you take away the most important person to him? Would you set them aflame and laugh as you watched them suffer?"_

_"..." He was silent for a moment, as if he did not know how to answer before he nodded. _

_"I'd do anything.." France sighed._

_"You and he...you have a lot in common." The Frenchmen stood from his chair and approached the younger man with a playful smirk. He wondered... _

_"You are the most important thing to him...are you aware?" France dragged his long slender fingers across the colonies jaw line._

_"That's a lie..."_

_"Non, it is the truth...you mean so much to him." He continued to caress the cheeks of the North American. "Because he is so fond of you...I think I will take you for myself."_

_"What?" Soft lips placed themselves over his ear, he could feel the warm breath of the Frenchmen against his skin as he whispered._

_"Angleterre would despise it. He would cringe at the very thought of his precious colony in my bed...it would break his heart if he knew about it..."_

_"..."_

_France smirked and stood straight. Slightly surprised as he felt his arm being grabbed and himself being pulled closer to the American. Oh the hatred he could see burning in his eyes as he was finally pulled into that first kiss. The Frenchmen smirked and returned it with an equal amount of force and passion. He could feel it, something almost feral, something savage._

_ The European wrapped his arms around the other and took dominance, tangling his fingers in the wheat colored hair of the colony. He could hear the other moan as his skilled tongue explored his mouth._

_It was a strange taste, a mix of bitter and sweet but it was delightful all the same-the fact that he was going to make love to England favorite colony was what made it all the more delicious._

_"Arthur"_

_America moaned his name between kisses. The closed eyed colony must have been imagining his care taker as he kissed France and the Frenchmen wasn't exactly sure how to take that. It was slightly insulting to his pride, yet it somehow made everything sweeter. America lusted after England, and somehow made him feel as if he would be hurting him more._

_Perhaps maybe if the American army shows that it can win, he would allow his people to fight. But for now he was content with this..._

_"Come." France took his arm after the separation. "You're coming into my bed." He dragged the colony, who put up no resistance into his bed room and pushed him down._

_"Is this how 'Arthur' does it?" He straddled the colonies hips and smirked._

_"N-no...we never... he doesn't even..."America blushed and France mused. He really did wonder..._

_"I see...I understand, I'll be the first the deflower little Amerique, but wouldn't you rather be him?" Now he was just teasing the boy._

_"I don't want it to be...it could be anyone just not him. I'm doing this to spite him...I don't want to love him..."_

_"I wouldn't have it any other way mon ami..." Lips found each other once more. It was a strange feeling, having another person's tongue in his mouth. It wasn't at all like America thought but it wasn't horrible. He just thought it would be...different. He didn't love France, he hardly even knew him so is that why it was different? _

_ France allowed his fingers to roam over his partners body. He found himself unbuttoning , pulling at, and lifting off the American's clothing. Stripping him until a naked body lay beneath him, a needy and trembling body. The proof stood proudly between his legs and France was damn proud of what he was able to accomplish. He looked into America's half lidded eyes and smirked. He had a right mind to leave him like this but he himself had a task to accomplish._

_A hand dragged down his face and he jumped at the unexpected touch._

_"England..." He heard him say breathlessly. America loved England, he wanted him, desired him._

_And France thought he was the one using America. The colony was using him as a displacement for his feelings._

_He sat up, despite the fact that France was straddling him, he sat up and pulled his body closer to his own. France sat on his knees, his front facing the American's and was pulled into a kiss. It wasn't near as rough as the others have been, it was sweet and romantic but France found himself enjoying it. _

_Enjoying the fact that this is what he wanted to do with his hated rival. However this was no time for romance, this was no time for passionate love making, no. His earlier thought had been wrong. He was not going to make love the America. _

_This needed to be rough, this needed to be full of spite and vengeance, it had to be erotic, this needed to make a lasting impression on him so he would not forget..._

_Quickly he stripped himself form his own clothing and pushed the younger man back on the pillows. He wasn't sure if it was his dazed, needy expression or his leaking member that told him; but America wanted this bad. He wanted desperately to be taken over and to forget the feelings that felt._

_France smirked and licked his fingers._

_He would be sure give him exactly what he desired..._

_..._

It was clear to France that the American fostered a severe brother complex. The resemblance between the two of them was uncanny.

It took one look at England to figure that America, surly, was his colony...

And because of this, France knew that his desire may have been repressed, but it had not vanished. He could coax it out, and he could use it for his advantage.

France sighed. Something inside of him wished that it did not have to come to this. He remembered when England was once such a cute little boy.

He could remember the time when they first met...

...

_"Don't be scared little one. Big Brother France won't harm you!" France called into the trees, the preteen sighed as he held his neck. Was this worth it? He did want to conquer this land but..._

_"Come out! Come out to big brother!"_

_Despite never seeing him, France knew that there was a small nation taking refuge in the woods. He had been shot at, caught in traps, and left things and found them missing the next day..._

_ He's yet to see this nation, but he knew he was there._

_"Come out! I have a treat for you!" He attempted to bribe him or her. Why wouldn't he? His food was delicious!_

_Finally, after hours of calling he stopped. He wasn't coming out. France sighed. What would it take for him to find this kid? He didn't understand! His boss continued to send him but he always came back empty handed..._

_"..I'll come again tomorrow..." The Frenchmen moaned in defeat and crept from the woods._

_France would go back every day for the next two weeks or so, occasionally bringing food or some item from his own home for the child to look at. He was sure that it was him taking the items he left._

_But despite it all the child never appeared before him!_

_"I brought some cake! Come and have some with big brother!" He called out yet he gained no reply. He sighed and set the cake down. It would be another one of those days he thought. The boy turned around only to be met with the sound of small sobs from a bush. Curiously, France pulled back the leaves and his eyes opened wide. A small child! His eyes were large and a shade of inhuman green, he was also very tiny. No human he knew could ever be that small. He knew it was him! But why was he crying? Why was he so sad? He was curled into a small ball crying his heart out. It was a truly heart breaking sight, a child attempting to comfort himself. France couldn't stop himself from reaching out. His heart sank when he saw him for the very first time..._

_"What is wrong?"_

_The island country only pulled the hood from his cape over his head to hide but France pulled it down and took him into his arms, swaying back and forth and humming a low tune._

_England was shocked. Shocked and scared. This was the first time he had ever come into contact with a person who wasn't cursing him or beating him up! He found himself pushing away from this stranger wanting to get away. Whatever this strange man was doing wouldn't trick him! He was going to hurt him, he wanted to beat him and curse him and take away his land! He wanted to kill him but he couldn't allow that to happen. So he fought. _

_"Don't fight me, it's alright I won't harm you..."_

_"A-Aren't you scared of me?" He sniffled._

_"No of course not."_

_"Why not? I'm cursed!"_

_"Cursed? Well that isn't good! We must get you un-cursed then! "_

_"Y-You can't! Even the fairies don't know what I'm cursed with..."_

_"Then maybe that means you aren't cursed. Big Brother France can see nothing wrong with you! I say you are not cursed."_

_"B-But-"_

_"Shhh...be still now and tell big brother why you were crying." He continued to rock the small country in his arms, soothing him._

_"S-Scotland..." France raised a brow. He knew Scotland._

_"What did he do?"_

_"He beat me up." He sniffled. "And told me I was unwanted a-and that I was unclean." France frowned. Why did he feel a pang in his heart? Why would Scotland tell him this? Sure the Scot was never the nicest person around but he didn't expect this. He suspected that the small country lived in the woods but maybe he was forced here? Forced into isolation and solitude? The thought made his stomach churn. Who would want to do that to a small child? Even if he was a country he was still young and developing._

_"Unclean? Well than, we'll just give you a bath!" France turned, forgetting his cake, and snuggling England closer to him. "As for unwanted, that's preposterous! You're adorable! I want you with me at all times!" He poked the child's cheeks and began walking out of the woods._

_"I-I'm not adorable! Let me go! Let me go you slimy frog!"_

_Thus began their relationship. The pair would fuss and fight constantly yet in England's eyes, France was the only friend he had. He was the first one who treated him like a person, the first person who didn't hate him or treat him badly, and although he was a creepy wierdo, he wanted to grow and be like him. He admired France, in many more ways than one._

_Years past and England grew, he grew into adulthood and grew to be a power just as strong as France. They bickered and teased each other as usual, but something was different. As he grew, England became more aware of himself. He began to learn things about life and living that his younger mind could not fully comprehend. He began to notice things, little things. The way his heart beat would be faster, the way his cheeks began to flush, his body's reaction to his thoughts..._

_He grew and both realized: All good things must come to an end. England matured. He no longer cried on France's shoulder about how cruel his brothers were or how crazy his monarchs could be. He didn't chase after him anymore, he didn't try to be like him. He no longer needed France, he no longer needed a caring and doting big brother._

_His needs changed as he grew and became immersed with war and strife. He didn't need a shoulder to cry on, he wanted someone to take his pain away..._

_France snickered to himself as he found England sitting behind his house one night; a bottle of rum beside him, and mumbling to his 'fairies.' The Frenchman sighed. He knew he was lonely but still! Talking to himself? This was the reason he came over so often, he couldn't have England going mad in this secluded little home of his! He didn't have any other friends and it was his duty to take care of him._

_The Frenchmen tip toed behind the Englishmen before letting himself known with his trademark laughter._

_"Ohonhonhonhon! Talking to yourself again? Perhaps you should put that bottle down Angleterre!"_

_"Go away frog! I'm not drunk and I'll have you know I am speaking to the fairies!" France rolled his eyes. What was he going to do with him?_

_"So you say...what, dare I ask, are you really doing?" He questioned, " Shouldn't you be happier? We are in times of peace you know." England scoffed._

_"Peace? The only reason I'm not kicking your arse right now is because of this damn plague!" He huffed. He and France were at war, on and off that is, the fighting ceased due to a sudden outbreak of the black plague..._

_"Oui, you are correct. But it'll be alright. We still stand do we not?" He placed a hand on England's shoulder who only grunted in return. It didn't matter if they stood unaffected by it, more and more of his people were dying every day and it hurt. He had started to wonder if this would be the end of him. If he would fall victim to the plague along with his people. Would he die? Would anyone really care if he did? His brothers seemed like they would celebrate his downfall but..._

_What would France do? _

_He knew for a fact that he was not his only friend and for some reason that make the Englishman...upset. France was all he had, the only person he cared about and he wanted the older nation to feel the same way about him... _

_"It'll pass and we'll go right back to war...I'm tired of fighting..." He nearly whispered. France smiled._

_"Is the mighty England fearful that he'll lose this war?" He teased._

_"Please. I just don't see why you don't give up and hand over that thrown of yours to me!"_

_"As if I would ever have Anglo-trash sitting on my throne! Please!"_

_They bickered for a while before England took a large gulp of rum and sighed._

_"Whatever..."_

_France laughed._

_"Admitting defeat..?"_

_The younger nation did not reply. He continued to look forward into the night..._

_"France?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"How do you deal with things like this?"__  
__"What do you mean?"_

_"Things like this...like war and death...when you get lonely, how do you deal with it?" France thought for a moment. Was England admitting to being lonely? Typically he would deny such claims and state that he was happier alone. He declared the other nations as fools and says that he refused to associate himself with such 'mediocrity.'_

_He forced himself into isolation with the belief that no one wanted him around, he estranged himself from the others and branded himself as a black sheep. He would never admit how much it hurt to be teased or how horrible it felt to be lonely and unwanted because he was a proud nation, proud and strong and he didn't need anyone other than himself._

_Or at least that is what he always said. _

_"Hmm...I suppose I enjoy keeping company around me..." Maybe he would get the hint. Having friends wasn't such a bad thing..._

_"I see..."_

_It was silent between them for a few moments before England turned to him._

_"France...will you keep me company?"_

_"hmm?"_

_"You know what I mean...I-..." He was silent for a moment before becoming brave. He turned to France. "I fancy you. Quite a lot really and..." He trailed off, looking off in another direction. France mused._

_Why did he feel as if he expected this? He mentally sighed. He looked at England, a deep blush running across his face, his large eyebrows knit together in anticipation for a reply._

_France sighed, this time out loud, and it gained the attention of the other. He gave France a hopeful look. England was convinced that he knew what France would say, that he knew France would reply with words of affection and adoration toward him. It was the only reasonable option. He had to love him. _

_Why else would he bother?_

_England loved him. So France had to love him back..._

_He needed him too..._

_"...you shouldn't use others as a deterrent for your problems Angleterre..." Was his reply. "No, I won't go into your bed. That should be something reserved for someone you love..."_

_"But...I-I just told you. I do love you!"_

_France gave him a sad, sympathetic smile._

_"You're still young mon ami, you don't love me. You're mistaking your feelings for me as love. Someday you'll find someone you do love and then you should take him or her into your bed. I won't do that to you, you're still an innocent and you deserve someone who is the same..."_

_A strange look came over his face. What? What did he mean? He wasn't mistaken! He knew how he felt! How dare France tell him otherwise?!_

_"No! No you're wrong!" He shouted, he stood and glared at France. "I-I love you...I've always loved you France..."_

_The older man stood, he frowned. _

_"I'm sorry Angleterre but I-"_

_"No! Y-You have to...you have to love me!" His eyes were glossy, as if he would cry at any moment now and France's heart sank. He frowned. England was truly lonely. He was so lonely and desperate to fill that hole in his heart. He longed for companionship. He wanted so desperately for someone to love him. The last thing France wanted to do was crush his fragile heart, he didn't want to make him more so lonely than he already was but.._

_If he did what England wanted then he would want their relationship to be more and France knew he could not commit to that, he cared about England but he did not love him, not in that way._

_He wanted to protect him from the pain and heartbreak that would be harder to deal with later. England would find someone to love, someone he really loved and would love him back, he or she might not be there for him yet, but France knew that someone would come and love England._

_He wished it didn't have to come to this, he wished that he did not confuse familial ties and sexual desire, he wished he did not mistake his own feelings for romantic love. _

_"Stop it. You can't force someone to love you. I'm sorry that I do not feel the same way but you must understand that you will find someone who-"_

_"Liar! No one will ever love me...I-I know all the nations and I don't fancy any of them except for you!"_

_"Then maybe your love hasn't become a nation yet..." France wanted England to understand, he wanted him to understand that love is patient. It would come for him in time._

_"Liar...there is no place else...why don't you love me?" Why? What was wrong with him? Why didn't anyone love him? _

_"I do love you...but not in the way you want me to..."_

_He tried to reach out for him, however England turned away. He turned away and without a word marched into his house and slammed the door._

_France sighed. England would never forgive him for this. He knew he broke his heart and he feared that the pieces would never pick themselves up._

_He would talk to him again in due time. England needed to be alone._

_France stood, he brushed off his breeches._

_"I-I'm going to make this hurt France...I swear I'll hurt you like you hurt me..."_

_The Frenchmen stopped in his tracks. From the open widow he could hear England's angry, broken hearted sobs and his man rants. He sounded so...broken, like a mad man. _

_France frowned and shook his head. What was he going to do with him?_

_France left the yard without a second glance back..._

_England was sure to let his fury known to France throughout the remainder of the years._

_They did nothing but fight with no evidence of stopping. The war totaled about one hundred years and England fought hard but France was able to come out the victor._

_Yet nothing is without loss..._

_He murdered his Jeanne._

_England murdered Jeanne! His beloved Jeanne! And all France could do was watch as she burned alive..._

_England's words echoing in his mind, the small promise he made to himself to France's horror and disgust, was coming true._

_"I'll hurt you like you hurt me."_

_That was the only thing he could think as the flames danced around her body._

_Was his heart truly that broken?_

_Was this an act of jealous fury? _

_Why?_

_He could never forget that day. He wouldn't forget that day. It burned itself into his memory along with everything which came after._

_Killing her wasn't enough for him however. England wanted to hurt France as much as he could._

_After the hundred years war, England put himself back into isolation. He meddled not in anyone's affairs, except if it involved France. During times of war England would place himself on the opposite side of France. He didn't care much for the cause, he only wanted to cause France harm, as much harm as he could. _

_And France wanted nothing more than to do the same._

_Many years went by and they continued to fight one another, they were bitter, they were angry, and the more they fought the more they hated each other._

_England was bent on taking everything from him. He forced him out the new world, and stole away the only thing that made him happy since Jeanne died. He took away Canada._

_It was the ultimate blow to his heart..._

_..._

The more France thought of it. The more he actually _wanted_ to do this. England deserved everything that was coming to him. He knew his plan, his plan to _save _France for last. England wanted him to make a move, he wanted him to do his worst because he didn't want this to end.

No. England wanted their game of cat and mouse to last forever. It was a thrill. Who could do the most damage, who could take the most, who would come out on top.

It was a sick game, it was twisted, but France had no qualms about playing no matter who was caught in the cross fire.

He would play this game with England until the very last day...

"Umph!"

Startled, France turned toward the sudden intrusion. A small smirk came over his face as America was tossed to the ground before him with Prussia's foot proudly pressed against his head.

"Look what I found" Prussia smiled and let out his signature laugh.

"Hello America...it's so nice of you to...drop it" The Frenchman sauntered to where the American lay and Prussia lifted his foot. "You must excuse my friend, he can get a bit carried away..." He kneeled and lifted the boys chin to meet his gaze. Yes. He has not changed one bit...

"I'm sure that our little empire would notice if his favorite toy was take away from him, so let us talk. I'm sure we can work something out non?"

...

_England wailed. His eye stung fiercely and he knew that it would turn into a bruise later. He let out a small gasp as he was flung against the wall, toppling over his shelved books and various treasures. A figure stood before him._

_It hurt. It hurt so damn bad! Why did this have to happen to him? Were they not brothers?_

_"S-scotland..."_

_"Daw, are you hurting England?" The older man mocked. A wicked smile came over his face as he grabbed his blond brother by the neck and pulled him to his feet before slamming him against the wall. "I take it you understand now?"_

_England could no longer breath as he felt his brothers hand tighten its grasp. No matter how he pulled or scratched at it, the blond could not force the hand away. He could only muster a few lousy squeaks before being dropped the ground and desperately fought for air. It was pathetic. He was an adult now! He should be able to fight back!_

_Scotland smirked._

_"Good...if you just listened to me from the start we wouldn't be having this conversation. You know how much I hate punishing you..." The red head kneeled before him, brushing a thumb lightly against the bruised cheek of the younger. "You know I love you Artie. I really do..."_

_Before England could fathom what was happening, a pair of lips roughly smashed against his own and despite his current state he tried his hardest to push the Scot away._

_He didn't like this feeling. _

_Scotland didn't love him. He only said he did because he knew it was the best way he could control him._

_"N-no! Please! Not again!" He cried, trying to push the body of the older nation away from him._

_"Shut up..." Scotland growled his eyes held an animalistic hunger to them. "You're gunna let me love you..."_

_Scotland once again crashed his lips unto the others, this time with so much force that England could not escape. Scotland kissed him. He kissed him over and over. He kept saying things like 'I love you' and 'let me show you how much...'_

_This was a setting that England new all too well..._

_France told him that sex was an activity to be shared with loved ones. Scotland said he loved England so was this what France meant? _

_He recalled France speaking of it like it was so special and intimate, like it was the greatest thing in the world but France was wrong._

_He was dead wrong._

_He was a liar._

_England felt no love as his brother powdered into him. He did not feel special being forced on this dusty old wall or as his brother moaned his name. No._

_He felt disgusted. He felt disgusted at Scotland's husky moans, his hot breath against his neck, his hands which roamed his body. He felt disgusted at his tears and his pleads for him to end this._

_This was feral and savage. Something designed to show power, to show dominance, to manipulate and exploit..._

_This was a weapon._

_..._

He woke himself from his nightmare, his memories of the past. Was there really any difference? The empire grimaced. He opened his eyes. It was still dark. He could feel something wet on his face. Tears? He let out a low whimper and shut his eyes.

Think happy thoughts.

He continued to tell himself. He tried to envision himself conquering the world, he tried to see himself finally putting that Frog in his place.

He remembered Spain, he thought of day he was finally able to punish his brothers, of Scotland rotting away in the cellar...

Yet none of those things made him feel better.

He tried his hardest to think of something happy, and finally his thoughts brought him back to the past.

Days of sunshine and happiness.

He remembered America, when he was still a small little thing running into his arms. He remembered holding his hand and teaching him things, how he would laugh and smile...

How he was the only person who ever truly loved him.

_"You aren't afraid of me?"_

_"Nu-uh...I've been finding out a lot about myself lately.."_

He smiled at the thought. He missed those days. The days when everything was perfect-the days when America was happy being his younger brother and nothing else mattered.

But then it changed.

It changed and that day had to come. That day standing in the rain...

He tried not to think about it. He tried so hard to focus on the happy times but that moment did not leave his mind.

Why didn't America want him anymore? Why did he want to leave? Why did everyone always leave him? Why must he always be the one hurting!

He needed America. It was the only thing he had! The only thing he had left to cling on to! He needed him to stay, stay with him forever, stay and be happy just like those times...

He needed to keep America under his control.

But somehow he knew that no matter what he did things between them would be different. America was no longer the innocent little boy he wanted him to be. He was an adult, an adult with adult feelings and desires, both of which were, at one point in time, were directed toward him...

But...

He only wanted things to stay the same. Was that too much to ask?

"Britain?" He could hear his colony call him in the dark. His eyes shot open. He felt the bed next to him dip and could feel the warmth beside him.

"Yes?" He tried his best to sound irritated, however the was grateful for the body close to his. It was comforting...

When his colony did not speak, he sat up. Was there something wrong? He smelt of the outside. Had he left?

"What is it?"

He was pushed into a warm chest with arms wrapped tightly around him. The empire felt himself relax and even hugging him back.

"What are you doing?" He asked sincerely. He did not want him to let go, but he wanted to be sure that the boy really knew what was happening, how he was taking this, what this really meant to him...

However Alfred only held him tighter. He planted a small kiss on the top of his head.

"Britain?"

"Yes?" A pair of hot lips connected with the empires and his body went ridged.

_I'm sorry._

_I'm so sorry Britain._

Alfred pushed the other back unto the sheets and crawled on top of him. He looked deep into the other mans eyes and found that same lingering emotion as before. Pain. Yet the man did not protest as he planted small kisses feverishly on his lips and down his neck.

"Please Alfred..." He lightly pushed him away, leaving a small space between them. That emotion shining clearly in his eyes...

_I can make you feel good..._

"Please?"

_I'll make you feel good and you can forgive me for what I did..._

"...will this make you happy?" It was whispered, almost as if he was unsure of the answer...

"It would..."

"Fine...do what you want..."

_This is the only way I know how to apologize_

"Thank you"

...

* * *

**Whoa!**

**Well that was a lot, I managed to squeeze some plot in despite this chapter being mostly related to character development.**

**I hope it wasn't confusing to you! It all made since in my brain but of course I wrote it!**

**Something to reflect on: It never started off this way but sex is now a symbol in this story. Every time someone is having sex it's never for love...they always have something to gain. What it symbolizes exactly I'll let you come up with but hint: it might be written in the chapter...**

**Also: America. Isn't he doing the same to England that England does to him? What's with that...What exactly did he do?**

**A-and did he say that Scotland was in his cellar? That's pretty creepy... Will we ever get to see him?**

**I wonder...**

**Keep an eye out for chapter 8o5, it'll be little mini chapter about America's childhood...**

**See you next time!**


	10. Chapter 8o5

**Here's chapter 8o5, it turned out longer than I thought but...whatever...**

**Warning(s): masturbation. **

* * *

From the first time I saw you...

I knew I wanted to be together...

_..._

_Little America peered over the small bush and gaped; there were people! Real people! They were different than the others around, not only were they were not dark haired and copper skinned but somehow they all seemed different than regular people. His eyes focused on the two men fishing who both seemed really angry with each other. One had wavy long hair and kind of looked like a girl, and the other had green eyes and really big eyebrows._

_The small boys eye's grew wide. He'd never seen anyone with eyes that color before! His own eyes were blue, and most of the people he was used to seeing had dark eyes like the man crying on the rock. A few people who came on the boats had blue eyes but green? He wanted to get a closer look, he couldn't tell if his eyes were the color of the grass or something different._

_His eyes were something to marvel at..._

_..._

_"I'm really busy, but I came out here in hopes that I could see you again..."_

_Alfred smiled. Really? He came all the way out just to see him? No one's ever done that before!_

_"You aren't afraid of me?"_

_"Nu-uh, I've been finding out a lot about myself lately..."_

_"Oh...well that's good." He smiled. The little nations face brightened. He smiled! He smiled at him! Somehow, it made him look different, much different. He had a warm and inviting aura around him and if the young boy had to put a name to it he would call the look 'beautiful.' _

_"From this moment on you're my new baby brother!"_

_"Ok. I guess I should call you big brother then!" His smile became bigger as he thought of spending more time with him. What did he like? What was he like? He never had a friend before let alone a brother! He couldn't wait to find out more about him..._

_..._

I grew to love you more and more each day...

...

_"England! You're home!" Ten year old (in appearance that is) America ran out the house and flung himself into his caretaker, nearly toppling him to the ground as he embraced him excitedly._

_" Careful America!" He braced himself and smiled warmly at his colony. "I told you I'd be back..."_

_"Sorry..." The boy smiled. He buried his face into his mentors red coat and breathed deeply, taking in his scent. He smelt of the sea and sand. It was a scent that the young boy simply adored! Whenever his mentor was away America would spend endless hours at the beach or docks in order to catch the familiar, comforting smell. Yet it was never quite the same. Something about the scent being carried on the taller blond was far better, far more relaxing._

_'I've really missed you' he thought. The young boy turned upwards to meet England's gaze and smiled as he stared into those endless pools of green. He loved it when England was with him, he didn't feel lonely with the older nation around._

_"What have you been up to lad?" His inquiry sparked a sudden reaction in the colony who pulled away from him immediately and began to bounce on his toes._

_"Oh! I have something to get!" Before England could ask, the hyperactive boy turned heel ran into the house._

_The older male chuckled at his colonies obvious glee and started after him. _

_"America?" He looked but the boy was no place to be seen! "Alfred? Where are you?" He sighed._

_England searched the house for the colony but to no avail, his charge was nowhere in sight._

_"Arthur! Arthur look! I-I picked these just for you!" The empire was presented with a bunch of wild flowers by a blushing colony the moment he reached the bottom of the stairs. He felt a sudden twinge in his heart and smiled, never has anyone done something so nice for him._

_"Thank you." He accepted the bouquet. "These are lovely, I'll put them in a vase."_

_He placed a tender kiss on the top of his colonies head and the smaller nation's smile began wide. _

_The empire left the room to collect a vase for the flowers and Alfred ran into his room._

_He searched for his favorite toy soldier and beamed with joy upon locating it. _

_"Did you hear that? Arthur really liked the flowers!" He then set down the soldier and placed an open book into his small lap._ _The page was illuminated by an illustration of a prince showering a princess with flowers. He smiled and ran his hand over the picture. "Arthur" he sighed. Alfred turned a few pages forward to the start of a new tale..._

_..._

_"Arthur! Arthur!" The colony opened the door of England's room and found his mentor sleeping. He frowned. Alfred expected him to be knitting or writing but not asleep. Arthur never slept in so late before..._

_Slowly he crept to the side of the bed._

_'It's like that story Arthur told me...' He thought to himself. A small blush came to his face as he leaned closer to the sleeping blond. The twelve year old boy took a large breath in and jumped at the older male, connecting their lips together in a sudden jolt before jumping backwards at the strange sensation. His stomach clenched together, he felt dizzy, and his body told him to run, yet he was compelled to stay and watch as Arthur's eyes fluttered open._

_The man brushed his fingers over his lips and sat up, turning his head toward Alfred who looked shyly at the floor._

_"Alfred..." He began slowly._

_"Yes?"_

_"Did you just...kiss me?"_

_"mhmmm..."_

_England let out a light sigh and motioned for colony to come closer, he obeyed._

_"Listen to me Alfred, you shouldn't do that..."_

_"B-But you kiss me!"_

_"Yes, that true but only on the head or on the cheek. You understand? You're far too young to be kissing lips and..." England trailed off awkwardly. "I-I understand that you might be at that age when...your body is changing and you might be feeling different. You might want look at girls and think they're pretty when you do. And...and might even want to touch them b-but you can't do that, you understand? I know you might start to get curious about things like kissing and...but just know that you can't do anything!" His entire spiel was said too quickly for Alfred to fully grasp but he nodded anyway._

_"Good. I'm glad we had this talk lad..." Alfred nodded slowly, shuffled out the room and closed the door behind him. He stopped in the hall and sighed. He didn't want to tell Arthur that he didn't want to look at girls (they're kind of gross!). He only cared about Arthur, he only wanted to look at him._

_He wanted to love him, and him alone..._

_..._

But then something began to change...

_..._

_"No! D-don't go!" Alfred tugged on the back of Arthur's coat. The older man frowned._

_"Alfred dear, please listen to me..." He kneeled down and placed his hands on Alfred's shoulders. "I must go, I have responsibilities in London. I have to go to keep you safe from harm and-"_

_"No! Don't go!" Alfred cried. "I don't want you to go!" The colony pulled on his arm, his super strength allowed his small body to pull the man toward him._

_"Alfred let me go right now!"_

_"No!" Alfred held on tighter. "Don't leave me, don't leave me!" He whined. "I need you to stay!" _

_"Alfred!" The empire shouted, scaring the younger boy and prompting him to let go._

_Arthur studied his arm for a moment and sighed at the small bruises evident on his skin before pushing his sleeve downward._

_"I don't want you to go!" Tears continued to flow, "you always leave! W-Why don't you ever want to stay with me?"_

_"I told you I have work to do. I would love to stay with you Alfred, I do but I simply cannot. When I'm done with work I'll be back but in the mean time I expect you to be a good boy, I want you to grow big and strong can you do that?"_

_After a few moments of loud wailing Arthur sighed. He pulled the boy in for a hug. _

_"Please don't cry, you know I'll be back don't you?" Alfred nodded after quieting down his sobs and Arthur smiled. He kissed the boy on the forehead and ruffled his hair._

_"I'll be back as soon as I can Alfred." And with that he was gone._

_Alfred stared after him, watching as he left. He sniffled and wiped his eyes before allowing his fingers to curl into tight fist, yet the tears continued fall freely down his cheeks._

_"Liar" He muttered. "Y-You could have at least said goodbye..." His vision blurred and his cheeks flushed. _

_He hated being left alone. He never knew when or even if England would return to him and he hated it. He wanted to be with England all the time! Why did he leave? Did England not want him? Did he not love him? _

_He only wanted to be together...was that too much to ask? _

_"I-I love you..." His small body shook with anger and sadness. _

_"I want you to stay with me...forever..." _

_..._

_"A-America..." England blinked a few times at the person before him. How did he grow so big so fast?_

_"Hey British dude!" He cheered before running with his arms open wide toward his mentor. He wrapped his arms around the empire and smiled to himself, taking in the familiar scent. He felt his heart beat faster and his cheeks flush. _

_"H-Hello America..." England had to get his thoughts together. This was definitely not something he was expecting. The colony finally released him and smiled._

_"Arthur..." He began, "I've grown up..." He looked down at his feet then into the eyes of the object of his affection. He was older now, the equivalent of a sixteen or seventeen year old at least. Would England see him different now? Would he look at him? Would he stay? _

_"Yes, I can see that..." He cleared his throat and smiled. Despite the general shock, he was happy to see his colony healthy and happy. "You're...even taller than I am now."_

_"Yeah. Must be all this fresh air..." He gave him a shy look. "I-I have something to show you..."_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah! Come with me!" He took England's hand in his own and blushed more. Thankfully the older wasn't looking at his face. He dragged him to the back of the house and smiled proudly at his work. His mentor's face brightened at the sight._

_There were all sorts of flowers, some of which he'd never even seen!_

_"You planted a garden?" He turned to his colony._

_"Yeah...I know how much you like this sort of thing." He shifted his weight as he watched the older nation look over his work, relaxing after he was given an approving nod._

_"Alfred I really don't know what to say... Thank you." He smiled and watched his favorite colony brighten. _

_"I'm glad you like it...I-I just..." He shuffled his feet. "I really..."_

_"Hmmm?"_

_"Nothing! Um...I-I'm going out to the barn!"_

_"America!" England sighed as his colony took off. Was there something wrong? Did they even have a barn? The island country frowned. He would just have to speak with him upon his return. Arthur turned back to the garden..._

_..._

I no longer just loved you...

I _needed_ you.

But...you didn't even want me.

_..._

_"Arthur! Arthur! Let's go into town and-" The colony stopped to see his mentor packing his bags."You're leaving again?" America frowned._

_"Yes. But I'll be back soon enough. I promise."_

_"...please don't go Arthur, I-I need you here." Alfred stepped fully into the room and neared the empire._

_"Keep a stiff upper lip lad. You can handle me being gone..."_

_"No! You have to stay!" He embraced the smaller man from behind. "Stay with me Arthur, please?"_

_"Alfred, let me go!" He felt the colonies nails digging into his arm._

_"No..." He clenched his teeth. _

_"Alfred!"_

_Before he knew it, Arthur was facing his colony, straddled beneath him on the bed with his arms pinned to his side and hot heavy breaths brushing his lips._

_"You have to stay with me, I miss you too much while you're away!"_

_"Let me up this instant you bloody git!" The colonies hold only tightened. Damn it! Why did he have to have so much strength?_

_"No...I-I love you! I love you so you can't leave me alone!" The empires eyes bulged and he struggled to be free. _

_"America!" He shouted. "You're hurting me!" England kicked him away, pushing the colony on the floor. It took a moment before Alfred was able to get his thoughts together for almost instantly he was met with s stinging blow to his cheek. _

_"What is the matter with you? You're nearly an adult and yet you act out as a child!" He screamed. Alfred didn't move, he stared at the ground, then up at his mentors bruised wrists from his spot on the floor. _

_His heart sank. Did he cause damage to the person he loved? America remained silent and England sighed._

_"I'll be back soon..." He took his bag into his hand and started out the door. America didn't have it in him to fight anymore. The colony pulled himself up and watched his mentor walk down the dirt road. After he vanished from sight. Alfred plopped on his bed and sighed. It hurt. It hurt so much to know that his feelings would never be returned._

_"I could use my strength and make him stay...but that wouldn't be right. He wants to go so I guess I should let him..." He sighed and laid back on the bed. 'It smells like him...' He thought as he pulled the blanket closer to him. 'It's defiantly his scent...it's warm, I feel like he's holding me...' Alfred smiled at the thought. He wanted Arthur to hold him and never let go. He felt empty without Arthur with him, as if there was something missing in his life._

_He wanted to look into those green eyes and be told that he would never be left alone again. He wanted Arthur to stay and keep him company, stay and love him forever. Alfred could not stop himself from grinning at the thoughts, if Arthur was there to hold him, or for him to hold, if he had the courage to speak freely of his feelings toward him, if he could kiss him..._

_He blushed._

_Sure, he kissed Arthur once as a child but did that count? He could faintly recognize the phantom sensation of a lips pressed against his own. Alfred licked his lips and tried to picture what it would be like now; He and Arthur kissing passionately, wrapped in the sheets, holding one another, never wanting to let go..._

_Alfred groaned. He shouldn't be thinking such things yet his mind would not stop. His imagination was always vivid, and he could picture it so clearly..._

_Arthur beside him on the bed, cuddling and kissing him. He probably tasted like tea, although Alfred wasn't fond of the drink he didn't think he would mind tasting it off the empires lips. _

_His body began to burn, a strange sensation swelled in his nether regions and his breeches grew uncomfortably tight._

_Why was his body reacting this way to his thoughts? He bit his lip yet his thoughts did not cease, images bombarded his brain._

_Arthur. Arthur. Arthur! It was all he could think about!_

_He sat up, untied his pants, pulled them down and breathed a sigh of relief. Alfred felt much more comfortable, however he had a problem still and it was throbbing between his legs..._

_He fell back against the sheets and shut his eyes as his mentors sent wrapped itself around him, he let his imagination wander..._

_He wondered what it would feel like to have Arthur touch him._

_Alfred found his own hands wandering his body, his mind forming them into Arthur's. The older man straddling his body, his hands exploring his chest, the misty look in his eyes as his hands traveled downwards, fingers curling around his cock and giving it an experimental squeeze._

_'Arthur' ran his hand over him, gently at first but becoming slightly more bold before pumping it up then down._

_Alfred's body jumped but the hand gripped him tighter and did it once more, then again and again. The strokes picked up speed before pacing themselves perfectly, shooting pleasure into the colonies body. _

_"A-Arthur" He breathed, his perfect image never faltering. He could see the smirk in his eyes, his tongue grazing across his lips, the hand pumping him faster and harder in perfect sync with Alfred's needs. 'Arthur' kissed over his body and muttered words of love to him. "I-I love you Arthur" He moaned, "Oh God I love you!" He found himself shouting. His fantasy partner smiled. Crawling over him and kissing his lips passionately as he moaned out his name. 'Alfred' he breathed. 'I love you...'_

_Alfred wasn't sure how long he continued on like that, beating himself and moaning out the name of his mentor but eventually his body shook and his eyes bulged , pulling him from his fantasy, as a final rush of pleasure erupted throughout his body, with a final moan of 'Arthur!' Alfred felt himself release..._

_..._

_"What! No way!"_

_"America calm down-"_

_"No! Y-you just can't tax us more!"_

_"America if you'd just listen-"_

_"No! That's like, total taxation without representation! You can't do that!"_

_"America you're paying less taxes than my own people! You're a part of my empire and you'll follow my laws!"_

_"I'm not a little kid anymore Arthur! I should be allowed to decide things for myself!"_

_"Then you need to be an adult and learn responsibility! You're acting like a child!"_

_"I'm not! These are my people England, they don't want to pay taxes!"_

_"I don't care!"_

_"You're being a tyrant!"_

_"You're being a leech! How do you expect me to take care of you when you don't want to aid me in return? That's selfish, lazy and immature America and I'm very disappointed in your attitude! I don't want to hear another word of this from you!"_

_America grunted and stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to his room._

_Another day, another fight. Both were getting tired of the constant bickering..._

_..._

I wanted you...

I wanted you so badly it hurt.

But I didn't want to hurt anymore...

_..._

_"ahh...Arthur!" Alfred found himself gasping once more as he finished. He sighed and closed his eyes. This was getting rather pathetic..._

_He didn't want this. He didn't want to feel the need, the want, the desire. As his relationship with Arthur worsened, his imagination continued to grow more and more vivid. He was desperate. Desperate for the man's love, he wanted his fantasy to become reality yet he knew this would never be the case._

_Arthur didn't want him, he picked at him and took from him and didn't think anything of it._

_Arthur was a tyrant._

_Even now he was away again and yet he expected him to pay his taxes and heed to his soldiers? Did he expect him to sit and wait for him forever?_

_This isn't what Alfred wanted. He didn't want to make love to a fantasy or be bossed around by someone he rarely saw._

_No._

_He didn't want to wait on anyone anymore, to be chained by feelings of unrequited love and devotion, he didn't want to hurt..._

_He wanted freedom._

_Freedom from England's tyrannical rule._

_Freedom for this alluring trap called love..._

* * *

**I hope you liked it!**

**Lets see, what should we think about today...ah!**

**America's super strength! We see that he had it as a child but where is it now?**

**Hmm...any ideas? Maybe he doesn't want to use it on Britain? Maybe he lost it after the revolution was lost? Maybe its some sort of mental block?**

**I guess maybe we'll see!**

**I hope you enjoyed it, and for those American's out there, I know its a day early but I doubt I'll be updating so: Happy Independence Day! (or as my family just calls it 'The Fourth of July') and Happy Birthday Alfred! We love you~ **


	11. Chapter 9

**Hey guys, I'm sorry its been so long but I had writers block~**

**I don't really have much to say but a small part of this chapter was inspired by a RP I had with a really awesome Prussia (I was Germany)**

**I got really excited to update...**

**I do not own Hetalia~**

* * *

If it was to make you happy I'd do anything, don' t you know that Alfred? As long as I can keep you by my side I'm content.

You are my sunshine, the only ray of light in my life and without you my world is gray.

Alfred, I don't love you the way you want me to, but if it's what you want, if it'll make you happy, we can pretend.

Isn't that what we've been doing since your revolution? Pretending? How did you put it? 'Playing house?'

Truth is: I still see you as my precious little brother. I love you as a brother and I want you to love me back.

I want your love Alfred.

I need your love don't you understand that?

It took a year after your rebellion for me to realize that you would never love me that way again...

Do you remember that day?

The day I decided to treat you as a man? (what you always wanted?) It was same day General Washington hung, I know you'll never forget that.

I know you didn't understand, after all I rejected your feelings for me, but it was the only way I knew how to make you know how much I loved you.

My love wasn't able to reach you before that day but it has now and for that I'm grateful.

I tried to be a great big brother for you, but I'm afraid that I didn't know how to be.

I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough, but I didn't have the best role models myself.

I didn't want to give you a childhood like mine, I wanted you to have more, to have better but somewhere down the road I made a mistake and it made you want to rebel against me...

Yet I managed to get you back, to make you stay, to give myself a second chance and now I'll be sure to keep you...

Because I love you so dearly.

I love you so much that I was willing to toss my feelings aside and please your wish to be with me...

Every time I hurt you, whenever I felt your loyalty to me slipping away, whenever I was afraid that you would go, and when I needed reassurance that you would stay by my side, I would try to gain your love back, I would try to make up to you by loving your body...

Loving and having sex with you ensured me that I have your loyalty, your forgiveness, your faithfulness...

It reassures me, and it gives me control.

I need to control you Alfred, if I didn't you'd leave me again.

Don't lie to me I know that you would.

If you left me, I don't know what I would do.

So I love, I love and use my body as leverage over you because I never intend on letting you go.

I love you so much Alfred, you're so precious to me.

I've never had anyone love me before you came into my life and I want you to love me again...

But it hurts.

You're my little brother and this is wrong.

Somewhere in my desire to keep you I'm pushing you away but how can I bear to have you close? We're brothers Alfred, it isn't normal for brothers to do this...

It is wrong to hide my hurting heart from you?

However the more distant I am from you the more I have to prove to you that I care about you and the cycle never ends...

I think I'm at my wits end.

You smiled at me today, you spoke to me and spent time with me...

You came crawling into my bed, you basically begged me for it, so how could I deny you?

It isn't right but I don't care, because for the first time it was you coming to me.

For the first time since your revolution you showed me that you loved me.

And now we're making love...

Although it isn't how I want our relationship to be, I'm happy.

I've decided that a long time ago. I decided that I would be happy with your love regardless of the form it took no matter how much it burdens my heart.

Truly Alfred, why did you have to go and fall in love with me? Your brother? Why couldn't things stay normal?

But it's alright.

I'm content.

After all, this is better than being hated by you right?

However I don't understand the sudden change, the shift, the look I see in your eyes as you caress me.

You're whispering something in my ear but I'm afraid I can't hear you for I am far too preoccupied with your eyes.

Why do you look pained Alfred? Yet your touch has never been this gentle. Why is that?

There's something hiding behind those eyes and I can see it.

But what is it Alfred?

What is it that you don't want me to know..?

...

The sound of the birds chirping and the sight of the sun glaring through the window were enough to wake him from his deep slumber. Alfred groaned into the pillow which, for some reason, smelt heavily of tea and salt.

Slowly his eyes opened and he focused on the empty spot beside him.

A light frown drew itself as he reached and found the spot chilled and more so as the same overpowering feeling to guilt from last night washed over him. He turned away.

Why? Why did he feel so guilty? He shouldn't feel anything! He should feel nothing toward him. He shouldn't feel anything for that man, the man who took away his freedom, the man who hurt so many, oppressed all those people, the man who took advantage of his feelings, the man who constantly looks down upon him. He shouldn't feel anything but hatred toward him!

He should be happy! This was his chance right? If France and the others prevail then he would be a free nation, he would be free to fulfill his dreams; his dreams of flying high in the sky, of being a nation where anything is possible, the land of the free and of equal opportunity. He liked the sound of that (land of the free and...home of the brave! Yeah! That's a good one...)

He wanted to be a nation who could unite all sorts of people and ideas, where no one would be underrepresented or treated unjustly.

It was a long shot, there were bound to be difficulties but he knew that someday, even if it took thousands of years , he could do it.

But he could never do so as a simple colony! He would never have a place in the world , he would never help people if he was stuck being Britain's lap dog!

So why did he feel so guilty? Why did the mere thought of last night hurt him so? _  
__"No! America you love Britain don't you!" _Italy's pleads came to mind. _"Y-You can't do this, you can't get involved...you love him I know you do! I saw you hugging him on the bed earlier...You should never abandon the person you love..."_

Italy's voice came back to mind, his sad pleas, his hurt, broken hearted expression...

_"Italy! Be quiet!" _It was Germany's yell that brought him from his daze

_"No! You can't make him do this...Y-You shouldn't...People who love each other should always be together. If one leaves...the other would be lonely and it would hurt! America, you don't want to hurt Britain do you? "_

The question was so ironic it hurt. There was a time when he wanted to hurt him, when he wanted nothing else but to hurt him. but did he still feel that way?

_"In the end the choice is your own mon ami..." _He could hear the smirk in France's voice as he spoke to him. Everything was so vivid, France seemed to have no doubt in his mind he knew all along what Alfred would say.

But how could he be so confident?

_"...I don't love him Italy...you're wrong. I...I won't say anything to him, I'll keep quiet..."_

Why did it hurt him so much to think back on those words? America knew everything, France had no problem telling him the general idea and he knew the diary held many details.

When it came down to it he held no allegiance to France, Germany, Prussia or Italy. He had a duty to one person and that was to Britain, the empire which he was a part of.

He had a duty to Britain, to serve and protect him; wasn't that the reason he was there? To be an extra pair of ears and eyes?

What would happen to Britain if France and the others defeated him? What of his empire? Would America be free to be its own nation? What would it be like on his own? What of his other colonies?

Canada is happy with the way things have been. Would he want to be on his own? His brother was so shy, so feeble, what would happen to him? Britain protected him, both of them. Would it be right to take him out of his comfort? Could he protect his brother? Would he be taken over by France or Spain?

What was more important? His dreams or his duty to protect and serve his empire..?

But what about the world?

He wasn't sure what time it was, but when he finally rolled out of bed everyone was already up. Italy was alone in the kitchen cooking lunch, when the brunette saw him he could only give a sad look before turning back to the stove.

The colony took what was saved from breakfast and turned heel back up the stairs. While going up he passed Germany who gave him a small nod after what Alfred thought was a look to disgust. He noticed the German carrying bed sheets, probably to wash, and he nodded back.

Upon reaching the room he realized that the bed was made and everything was changed.

That explains why Germany gave him that look...

Alfred sighed and sat at the desk to eat before pulling out paper to write a long overdue letter to his brother...

...

"What are you doing down here?" Germany opened the door to the dark basement and sighed heavily. The only light was from a small window which his older brother sat under staring at a paper. Although everything was dark, the blond knew it was an absolute mess. There was a strange array of smells radiating from below him.

"France slipped this to me last night...I've been trying to figure out that it says..." Was his reply.

"France? Let me see..."

Against his better judgment Germany began down the steps and toward his older brother, careful not to trip or step on, or in, anything unpleasant. Prussia merely turned the note to show him few scribbles, shapes, and a little drawing which somewhat resembled map.

"What _is_ that?" He cringed, not only in confusion but in disgust directed toward his brother who could stand living in such a mess. Germany could hardly even remember what the dark room looked like, it was always cluttered with who knows what!

"It's a code West, some of it is familiar but there are some new things on here that I've never seen France use before..."

Germany was somewhat taken aback at his brothers seriousness.

He knew his brother was a great solider but his rude, obnoxious and overbearing attitude made him forget that fact. However he seemed completely focused on decoding that not, the blond could not help but smile. For once his brother wasn't being childish, bothersome, or annoying, he was acting as a model solider, someone he could look up to and respect, someone he could adm-

"So," He cut Germany from his thoughts. " You get laid by Italy yet?"

Germany let out a low sigh, mentally slapping himself for thinking so highly of his brother.

"My relationship with him isn't like that..."

"Yeah yeah so you say..." Prussia smirked and looked at him. "Than what was all that noise I heard upstairs then?" Germany sighed, cringing slightly.

"A assure you that wasn't me..."

"I'm disappointed in you West, Italy clearly wants you just as much as you want him! Why don't you just go and tell him!"

"I-I told you I don't know what you mean!" He flushed. What? No! His brother was wrong! He didn't like Italy, not in that way.

"...just tell me when you figure out that code" He sighed.

"You know..." The seriousness came back into his voice, now slightly above a whisper. "This isn't the first time you got yourself worked up over someone special..." Germany, who was about to walk away stopped. He turned toward his brother curious as to what the older nation would say next however he did not speak.

Prussia let out his signature laugh and gave his brother a wide grin before informing him how his 'awesome self' had everything covered and shooed him away.

Germany rolled his eyes and began up the steps and into the living room where he proceeded to clean.

"...Germany?" A light voice called him from behind. The blond man sighed and turned to meet the sad expression of his friend(?)

"Yes?"

"...A-are you mad at me?" Italy frowned. Was he mad? Why would he have any reason to be m- Oh. Last night.

Germany sighed, he yelled at Italy for nearly ruining the plan last night and neither have spoke since. Germany nearly forgot about their little spat however it was clear that the argument weighed heavily on the Italians mind.

He looked down at the ground shyly and shuffled his feet, occasionally stealing glances at the blond before turning his eyes back down.

"Nein. I'm not upset with you Italien..." He sighed.

"Really?" Instantly the brunette perked, and from behind his back he pulled a small box. "That's great! Because I made this for you...now we can go back to being friends right? Best friends forever!" He pushed the small box in Germanys hands and waited impatiently for him to open it.

Germany mentally slapped himself.

"Ja...we can be...best...friends forever..." He turned his head, feeling a warmness creep into cheeks that he did not want Italy to see.

"Yay!" Italy launched himself at his 'best friend' and tossed his arms around the blond. "Ti amo!"

"Yes yes, please let go Italy..."

"Awww..."

"I-I can't open your gift if you do not let go. What is this thing anyway?"

"You'll have to open it and see!"

Italy jumped back, his eyes lighting up at the German before him began to lift open the top of the box. He could not hold back his excitement as Germany lifted out the small white cloth.

"A...white flag?"

"Si! It's like the one I have! "

Germany held himself back from chocking the Italian right then and there.

"Oh...thank you...it's a... very thoughtful gift..." Italy frowned as the other placed it back into the box.

"W-Why don't you carry it ? Do you not like it?"

"I'm cleaning, I'd rather wait until I'm finished..." The blond began across the room and stepped into a small storage closet and Italy followed not too far behind.

"I can help!"

"No! I-I mean don't worry I've got everything taken care of. I only have to sweep and it only takes one person..."

"But I can do it!"

"I only have one correct sized broom anyway, see? My other one is small" Germany pulled a old, wooden broom out the closet and showed it to Italy who immediately blanked as he marveled at the thing.

"Why d-do you have an old push broom?" The German only shrugged .

"I've always had it. Prussia says as a child I wouldn't part with it at all, I guess I've grown attached to the old thing...I don't even remember where I got it from..."

Italy was about to say something however the door pushed open and immediately his demeanor faltered.

Britain glared at the two from across the room before pushing past and demanding that his tea be made and stomping up the stairs.

Germany sighed and pushed the broom into Italy's trembling hands, informing him that it was alright for him to sweep but not to knock anything over. Before going to the kitchen. Italy stared down at the broom, then slowly back up at Germany and swallowed his breath.

"...It is you..." He whimpered softly, silent enough for his voice not to be heard by the blond walking away but loud enough for it to have been said. Italy sighed and for a brief moment his eyes flickered with sadness, before turning to the storage closet and setting the smaller broom inside safely. He took the larger broom and began to sweep...

Upstairs, England stood outside the door and sighed. He didn't see America downstairs so he must be inside the room. He opened the door and watched his colony look up from his writing and smile at him from his seated position. He stood and greeted him kindly, with the same pained expression in his eyes.

"Hey Britain..."

"Hello...Alfred..." The empire sauntered into the room and peeled off his waist coat, he felt the fabric being taken from his hands and turned to face Alfred, who proceeded to hang it.

"I didn't think you'd be back so early...I should have put on some tea...I- I'll do that now-"

"Germany is making it, don't worry about it..."

"Oh...Alright..." The blond colony sat on the chair and looked down at his feet. Britain glared at him from across the room and for a moment everything was silent.

When Alfred finally looked up he was met with a pair of piercing green ones and he gulped.

"S-So...how was your day?" He wished he didn't sound so nervous! It made him feel as if Britain was letting on to him.

"Why do you ask?"

"I-I don't know...just curious I guess..."

"It was fine...tell me lad, how has _your _day been?"

Alfred shrugged, he informed his empire that nothing eventful occurred and that he was writing a letter to Canada...again.

"...Are you feeling well lad? You've been acting rather strange lately..."

The bed dipped with the empires weight as he spoke, he didn't understand, none of this made any sense to him at all!

"I feel fine...I-I guess I kind of miss home, and I miss Canada but other than that everything's fine..."

"...we'll be leaving Germany soon enough...I only need to get things settled ..." What Britain said came as a surprise. They were leaving? He could go home?

Being away from Britain would make everything easier, if he didn't see him than he wouldn't feel guilty right? He could go on with his life and all would be well.

"oh...alright..."

There was a knock on the door and Britain called for the person to enter. Germany twisted and knob and stepped into the room with a saucer which held a steaming hot cup of tea.

"Here..."

As Britain was about to stand to retrieve it, Alfred did so in his stead. He took the small plate from Germany and placed the cup to his lips receiving strange looks from both of the older nations.

"It taste alright...here you go Britain." He handed the item to the empire and turned to Germany who gave him a confused look and Alfred looked down quickly.

England turned to Germany, then back to Alfred and his features darkened slightly .

What was that look?

Why did he look away from Germany? That wasn't the norm, typically they glared at each other so why was Alfred retreating? Why did he feel the need to check his tea? Why did he do so voluntarily? Without him asking? Why was he acting so strangely?

Did something happen?

Britain turned toward the pair.

"Alfred..." He gestured for his colony to come thither as he turned around to meet his gaze. The empire set down his cup on the small stand near the bed and as his colony approached him Britain pulled him down by the color and slammed their lips together.

Germany's eyes widened and he took a step back at the sight. He cringed as the sound of low hums and sloppy wet kisses echoed throughout the room.

It took a few seconds for Germany to register the scene before him, but by the time he was able to get over the initial shock, which all things considered shouldn't be so much, the pair separated slowly and Britain smirked.

"That's all Germany, you can go..."

"..." Without a word the German personification left the room and Britain grabbed his tea once more before drinking it.

"W-What was that?" Alfred blushed.

"To let him know that you are _mine_, in both mind and body, you belong to me..."

"..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing..." Alfred sat beside his empire and leaned so his head rested on the older man's shoulder.

"...Don't betray my feelings for you lad..." He whispered. Alfred grabbed the others hand and gave it a light squeeze.

He did not speak a word. The colonies expression blanked, yet he cuddled into the empires warm body and sat with him in silence...

...

"West..."

"Yes?"

It was dark. Italy was sleeping and the house was silent. Prussia, after two days of work finally emerged from his room.

He did not say a word to his brother, only handed him a small paper for him to unfold. It took a while but he finally understood France's note, he actually had Gilbird to thank for knocking over one of his war uniforms.

It reminded him the various battles he fought, which bought back memories of the special code France developed with Spain in order to send messages between one another, if anyone ever found them they would be unable to understand for they were essentially nonsense drawn on parchment. It was a little different, some things changed and others remained the same however he was able to decipher it.

"You...figured it out?"

"Ja..."

Germany could not hold in the light smirk that came across his features as he read.

That France, he was much smarter than he originally gave him credit for...

To think that up his sleeve was an entirely different plan, different than what they told that American who, after witnessing his true relationship with Britain, was not to be trusted in the least. (Germany was weary at first but now, now that he knows why he gained favor with Britain, there was no way in hell he would trust him!)

"When?" He turned toward his brother who only mouthed the information to him.

What? Could they get everything in place by then? Prussia nodded, silently confirming that everything was under control.

He could tell his brother was just as happy with the new arrangements as he was despite being tired.

Even if Britain's lap dog decided to tell the truth to his master, even if Britain decided to take action, he would not be prepared for such an assault. After all, every plan Alfred knew and every detail in his journal held information for the long run , and it dealt with a much different aspect of taking down the empire.

"There's more..."

Prussia motioned for him to turn the paper over, and when he did Germany nearly laughed at the pure genius of it all!

That is why France was so confident, it all made sense now!

Germany smiled at his grinning brother who gave him a thumbs up.

This was going to work out nicely...

_"To Amerique..." _

...

Why do you love me?

"a-ahhh...nngghhh..."

I don't want your love...

"Ahhh...B-Britain..."

So why do you continue to love me? I don't understand it!

"a-ahhh"

Please, I want this to be loveless...

I want this to be rough...

I want this to hurt...

"nnnggh...please ...ahhh...faster!"

Don't be gentle, I want you to hurt me.

"nnnggghhhh...a-ahhhh"

I want to scream out in pain...

I want to feel the agony of being used and hurt...

"a-aahh..."

Britain, I want you to hurt me so I can hurt you back.

"...D-Don't stop talking..."

"mmmm...Does my voice turn my little colony on?"

"Y-Yes..."

I want you to talk down to me, make me feel like trash, treat me like I'm nothing more than a convenient fuck, like I'm a whore, I want to feel dirty and used...

"Ahh...a-ahhh..."

But please don't say you love me...

"F-fuck..."

"shh...you naughty boy..."

I want to hate you

Make me hate the feeling of your seed pouring into me, the sound of your heavy moans...

Make me hate your lips against my back and the throbbing you left me with...

Make me hate your touch, your smell, your body...

Make me hate everything...

So that I won't feel this guilt inside.

"mmmm...touch yourself Alfred...go on love, wank it just for me..."

I hate this guilt.

This guilt I feel as I watch you watch me.

As I feel you kissing me.

I hate it so much.

I don't want to feel it.

"ahh...ahh...ahh..."

"That's a good boy..."

Stop looking at me like that, like this hurts you...

I'm the one in pain!

"G-God...B-Britain..."

Why is your name the one I still call out?

Why do I feel this way?

"Go on...finish for me..."

"nnngghh...B-Britain..."

Why did I have to fall in love with you?

"Yes lad?"

Don't tease me with that smile...

It only makes me want you more...

"...a-a-a-hh ah...ahhh..ahhhh! AGHHHHHH!"

Why do I still love you?

Why don't I hate you?

"mmm...someone made a big mess..."

No. Stop. Don't kiss me. Don't touch me. Don't give me that affectionate smile!

"..."

"...I love you..."

No. Why did you say it? Don't tell me that! I don't want you hear your lies!

Your sweet, beautiful, calculated lies...

"...I know..."

Why do I have to be so weak?

Why do I want to make you happy?

Why am I trying so hard to please you?

Why don't I want to hurt you?

* * *

**Sigh...**

**I really don't know what's wrong with me.**

**Do you guys ever get sick of his all sex/implied sex that I write? I try to avoid it but...things like this are coming up so frequently...**

**Anyway:**

**These people...**

**Looks like Britain and America don't understand each other feelings at all huh?**

**So...we know that America is in love with Britain, and we know he fell in love with him as a child but...we never did find out the exact reason did we?**

**Does he love Britain? And how exactly did Britain find out about these feelings...we rejected him but in what manner?**

**Some things to think about...**

**oh. And how about the push broom eh? (because I didn't know how to work in a pair of underwear~)**

**I hope you like it, please tell me how you feel!**

**Until next time...bye!**


	12. Chapter 10

**Hello my dears, I'm sorry I keep vanishing on you guys, this time I got sick and I wasn't really up for doing anything. I still don't feel completely better but hey, I'll live. **

**On the bright side: New Student Orientation at my school finally ended so I no longer have to go to work it. I should have a bit more free time until summer ends to get back on track with my updates. When school starts again however I'll work something out. Ok?**

**This hasn't really been beta'd I tried to be more careful when I wrote it but I didn't want to make you all wait more...I'm sorry...I seem to say this a lot but I'll do it later...**

**If anyone of you have a problem just let me know and I'll do it/ have someone else do it before hand ok? **

**I do not own Hetalia it's characters nor themes. **

* * *

Laying beside him, curled up at his side, awake as the other man slept in peace and comfort, and blissfully unaware of the fact that he was being watched.

It was something he was very use to by now. It was a thought provoking position, a state which induced memories of times long past.

His memories brought on a small sigh as he stared at the sleeping man underneath the blanket. His body was thin yet strong ,as Alfred knew well, his skin was pale and smooth save for a few scars of origin unknown, his hair was a tussled mess, but that was nothing new, and everyone one of his features was perfect.

To Alfred, Arthur was beautiful; everything from his large eyebrows, to his long slender legs.

Whenever he thought about the empire it was as a perfect image of beauty.

He could not remember the first time he marveled at the man beside him, he only knew that he had and he'd done it so many times in the past that it almost became an unconscious effort.

Alfred never thought of Arthur as a woman, no, to him Arthur was a king. He was a king who deserved the finer things in life without having to work for it and Alfred would gladly do that because he was his ever faithful knight.

Arthur was a king; someone untouchable, who he could never have, but desired nonetheless.

He was unsure as to when the transition started; One day they were brothers, and the next he was the item of Alfred's young affections.

He knew it was wrong and he tried his best to deny his feelings; after all incest is sick, twisted and surely a sin against the God Arthur taught him to believe in.

He wanted to be normal, to be able look at England and smile at his big brother as he used to do and he tried to do just that, he really did, however there came a point where curiosity took the place of self control, where his desire had taken him over. He figured it was a phase, a part of growing up, that he didn't want England but wanted to be like him but...

He wondered: What is it like to kiss? To hold? To touch?

England once told him that he would want to touch girls, it was ironic, girls were strange and foreign to him and he held no desire to touch them, instead he wanted to touch him.

What did he feel like? Was he the same as him? What did he look like? He could not help but to be curious.

Questions would invade his young mind and drive him near crazed, even more so as his physical body aged.

He wanted to know about England, he wanted to learn everything there was to know about him and more.

He recalled sneaking into his bed just so he could lay beside him, he remembered realizing he was taller, more muscled than the Brit, more suited to be a knight and he his King. He recalled moving close, touching the skin on of face and his hair. He could remember his eyes and hands traveling downward toward his neck, feeling his shoulders, his chest and his waist, exploring slowly and carefully for he did not want to wake him and he did not want to forget what he felt.

He remembered leaning into him, whispering a low promise every night.

"You will be mine..."

He remembered laying beside him for countless hours as he did now, watching him, touching him, wondering, imagining, moving close and stealing kisses, having learned from his past mistake not to be too rough or he'd awaken his sleeping prince, Alfred remembered and he sighed.

France called his feelings an 'Unhealthy obsession' once, was that what it was?

Was he still that love struck puppy he used to be? Was he really this pitiful? Willing to sleep with a man who couldn't possibly love him back? Just because of some childhood fascination?

Why was he ok with this? Why was he so fixated on him? So obsessed?

Why was he so pathetically in love?

So in love that that even while knowing how ridiculous it was, how stupid he must seem, how pitiable and sad the situation was, he would stay by his side and allow himself to be take advantage of?

He catered to his ever need, waited on him hand and foot, came to his every beck and call, and accepted his false love. Why was he so stupid?

"Why couldn't I just be normal?" He asked himself lowly. After all, it wasn't normal for a boy to want to touch someone he thought to be brother, to stroke themselves to completion while imaging said person, to want said person to love you and you alone...

He knew that but he could not hold in his feelings. Why? He sighed once more and turned to look at the ceiling.

His body was tired yet his mind was racing.

Of course, he had one thing.

That plan.

The one thing that could get him away, that would allow him to be free himself from the chains holding him down, that one thing which gave him power to stop this senseless cycle.

He had that one thing over him, and that gave him power, a feeling to strength, a sense that he was in control over something in his life for once.

He knew something that Britain did not, and that information could be the difference between freedom and bondage.

It was all on him.

Alfred felt his heart beat.

Another burning question entered the forefront of his mind.

What would happen to Britain if Germany's plan succeeded?

Would he be gone? Would they kill him? Lock him away? France hated England so the outcome wouldn't be pretty for him and he knew that.

He glanced back toward the sleeping man, he was so beautiful. He reached out toward him, stopping only once he felt the warm, soft skin of his cheek and could not stop himself from smiling.

Maybe someday he could sort out his feelings. He did not want to be a love struck puppy, an admirer in the background, if he was to love Britain then he wanted it to be on equal grounds, it would no longer be a one sided love affair.

He would conquer his heart. He would make sure of it.

Thoughts of the past, of the future, of the present, they bombarded him rapidly. Questions of 'what if' and 'when this' ran across his mind. His heart raced with excitement but eventually he closed his eyes and drifted off into a light slumber, dreaming vividly of an unforgotten past.

He knew it would hurt, he was well aware of what he would be doing but not telling him and although he did not want to do it, it was the way it needed to be...

It would be better for them both. Wouldn't it?

He held so many doubts in his mind yet he had to hold strong...no matter what he would go through with this...right?

...

When the Empire found himself fully awake, and sweating under the hot blanket his colony was gone.

For a few moments, he laid in thought. He should be leaving for home soon. His body hurt. Has he gotten too big? Was he making the same mistake as the Roman Empire?

He sighed and sat up and shook his head of those thoughts. Unlike the Roman Empire, he knew exactly what he was doing and he would not be so weak as to fall to those around him. Besides, the Roman Empire was just that, merely an empire. He was a country; a proud and strong nation who built an empire. That was not who he was. If his empire was to fall, which he knew never would, he would not go with it.

He lived through far too much as a country and he had the scars to prove it. Scars from battle, from civil unrest, from war...

Britain pulled the hot blanket down and sat for a few more moments before turning to look at the empty spot beside him.

America was such an important part of his empire, truly his crown jewel, he needed to keep him happy and have him stay by his side.

But would he be able to go on like this?

Go on living a lie?

He closed his eyes in frustration only to have them open once more at the sound of the door opening.

America walked into the room silently, and instantly the scent of tea filled the air making the Brit's mouth water. He watched his colony shut the door and carry the platter closer to him with a weak smile.

"Mornin' " He handed him the small cup and Britain relaxed slightly as he took the warm dish into his hands. He took a sip.

"Perfect. Thank you Alfred."

"You're welcome." The colony sat beside him. He watched as the empire set the cup down. Slowly he leaned over and placed a light kiss on his forehead. Another kiss, another apology. Britain smiled and ruffled his hair.

"You've been rather affectionate lately lad, any particular reason why?"

"None really..." He mumbled before sitting back. It was silent between them once more.

"You..."

"Yeah?"

"You...haven't seen much of Germany during these last months have you? Just here and a few trips to the market?" Perhaps it was best that he spend the day with the boy, to keep an eye on him and his strange behavior. Although he would never state it out loud he missed the days of spending time with him, watching him as he explored, and trotted around and talked about things he did not know. A secret smile appeared on his face as he thought back to the days when America was small, back when they were only brothers and nothing more, back when that was enough for him and he wanted nothing more out their relationship.

"Yeah mostly..." His voice took him out of his thoughts.

" It's 'Yes' Alfred..." He corrected with a sigh "We should take a trip to see a few sights before leaving would you like that?"

"Yea- I mean 'yes'..."

A small laugh emitted from Arthur, taking them both by surprise. Sincere laughter was rare for him, it felt strange, it was foreign and unlike him, yet he liked it. Alfred tried his best to hold back his own smile at the sound however he let out a small chuckle.

"Alright, we can take a trip together. It's been a while since we last did anything like that hasn't it?" He reached forward in order to ruffle his hair fondly. He kissed his forehead gently. "Why don't I get ready so we can go?"

They began to spend the day together despite Arthur claiming he had work to do. Strangely Germany didn't seem to be in much of a upheaval, everything was calm as a result of Arthur instructing the generals. Although there was a lot of yelling and insults flying during the brief meeting, as Alfred noted, there was no denying that Arthur knew how to get things done.

As Alfred sat and listened to the discussions, he could not help but to pick out a few words such as 'rebels' or 'jerry's,' it reminded him of how his own were spoke about in a similar fashion. He could not help but imagine his own revolt being handled in a similar manner.

Were a bunch of angry men in a room all that it took to take away his dreams of independence? Was _he _even phased by it? Was he flustered and angry? Or was he indifferent? He turned to watch him speak, directing them on exactly what needed to be done.

He looked so big.

Could Alfred ever reach him? Could be bridge that gap? Could he ever be great? He closed his eyes in frustration. Yes. He would be that great, he needed to bridge that gap between them, he would not remain at his side, not like this. Things were going to change between them, he needed them to. America would be a great and powerful country and he needed to be for his own sake. His dreams of independence were strong, even more so that he knew that he had a chance with the Europeans planning against him. Britain may be powerful but he isn't invincible is he?

"Sorry about that lad..." He apologized as they marched out of the building and into the streets. It was late in the afternoon. The summer months were coming to an end and he could feel autumn rolling in. Winter, although it seemed far away, would probably be harsh this year, in Europe anyway.

"It's ok, you have a lot of things to take care of I understand... " Arthur sighed.

"You really have grown up..." He started. Britain felt a small twinge in his heart, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. There was a time when he would never even think about bringing Alfred to a meeting. He hated leaving him because he would cry, however the thought of bringing him would lead to disastrous results.

Alfred was very mature throughout the meeting, he was of course no longer a child who inquired about silly things and became excited and he wouldn't hold his hand and lead him around.

"Yeah...I guess I have..." Alfred replied with a slight shrug. "...does that bother you?" His afterthought was low, as if he did not intend on the empire to hear him.

"Pardon? "

"...Nothing." The empire grimaced. How could he say that? After everything they've done together? Why was he so bitter sounding?

"Are you unhappy with the way things have been going?" He suggested.

"What?"

"You heard me..." They walked on, passing people walking shouting and laughing, German men tipping their hats to young women, horses pulling carriages, and children chatting loudly. It was no different than America, no different than England...

America didn't reply. He had no idea how to. Was he unhappy? The logical answer was yes however could he tell that to him? Would it matter? Would he listen?

"Alfred I do everything that I can to make you happy, why don't you understand that?"

He didn't reply.

Arthur scowled. He took him by the forearm and pulled him harshly into a small lot between two houses. He was probably hurting him but at this point he didn't care because he was at his wits end.

He pulled him closer and locked together their lips. He didn't get it. He gave the boy what he wanted didn't he? Why wasn't he happy?

"See? This is what you want isn't it? This and last night? I give you everything you ask for Alfred, so why are you not satisfied?"

"..."

"I don't understand, you can still have a good time with me in control..." Why? Why wasn't he happy? What was he doing wrong?

"...Britain?"

"Yes?"

"I..." He trailed off.

"You?"

"I-I mean..." He fumbled over his words. What was he going to say? It was clear to him that he was confused, clear that the older man did not understand, clear to him that he had tried so hard, even this outing was proof of it. He wanted everything to be ok and could not see why Alfred wasn't happy.

"I'm sorry I made you upset..." He wrapped his arms around him. "I am happy, really..." He lied. "I know you do a lot but sometimes I just feel like you still see me as a child, and not as the grown up nation I've become..." He mumbled. He felt embarrassed, apologizing to him in this fashion. But Britain liked affection right?

"...Alfred, how could he say that after everything we've done?"

"I know...I'm sorry..." Why was he the one who had to apologize? This wasn't fair! He didn't do anything wrong...

"But...I'm sorry if you really feel that way L- Alfred." He corrected himself. "You're right. You aren't a child and I should have done better to address that..." A small smile tugged on his lips, was the great Britain really apologizing to him? The green eyed Brit cleared his throat and turned around. "Thank you...for being honest with me." He turned toward. "Let's be honest with one another from now on... to avoid these sorts of misunderstandings in the future..."

"H-honest? So like...I can ask you questions and stuff?" The empire gave him a look of confusion. Questions?

"Of course Alfred..." What did he want to ask him? Why didn't he feel as if he could ask before?

"Will you be mad?" He Whispered.

"I won't be upset with you..."

"So um...Why didn't you react the same?" The moment he opened his mouth his burning question from earlier slipped out without warning.

"Pardon?"

"In the meeting...was that how you reacted during...my revolution?" He shrunk. Damnit, why did he have to start with a question like that? Why couldn't he ask something simple?

"...That's what you have on your mind?" He frowned. Why would he ask him that? Surely he knew that he reacted much more strongly? Why was that even in his mind? Those were times he wanted to move away from, to make disappear. He wanted to act like nothing changed although they both knew it had. Nevertheless he hoped to play house with him.

"Yeah...and others things..." His voice took him away from this thoughts.

"...I reacted very differently with you...I wasn't nearly as collected..." He hoped the obvious would settle the matter, however he knew that it would not.

"Why was it different? I wasn't your only colony! I know I couldn't have been the first one to want independence, why did it mean so much to you?" He thoughts flew from his mouth without time for him to stop them. The thing that he wondered about last night, what he's always wondered, what he didn't understand. Why he was so special?

"Why do I mean so much to you?" He quietly added as an afterthought.

"...Because you're my favorite..." Britain's large eyebrows knit together in confusion. Surely he knew that did he not? Why would he ask such a thing?

"But _why_" He stressed. He wanted to know, he needed to understand what made him so different than the others.

"...July 4th in the early 1600s..." He replied.

What?

"Britain! I don't-"

"Do you know what happened?"

"...no..."

"That was when you first said 'I love you' to me..." He smiled at the memory. "I was tucking you into bed, and you just looked up at me and said it after telling me goodnight...after I left your room I broke down in tears...I was so happy. No one ever told me that before..." He explained.

"...what?" Alfred whispered.

"I made a promise to you...July 4th in the early 1700s, I promised you that we'd always be together, and every July 4th I made sure that I was home with you, because to me it was a special day..." Alfred frowned. July 4th. He could tell were this was heading...

"However one July I could not come home...I went out to buy you a gift one day in August to send to you, but when I came home there was a letter on my desk. It was dated July 4th and the year was 1776..."

"Britain I-"

"I was so upset with you. I was furious. Of course I didn't react the same with you." He explained. "You were the one who ran into my arms..." He lifted his palms and smiled fondly at his memory. "The one who smiled at me, who was always so happy to see me...you were the one who loved me, the only person who ever loved me and you made me promise we'd stay together...you were so dear to me, so of course my reaction was stronger."

Alfred stopped his pace, he stared at the empire in shock at his reply.

"I didn't know..." He wasn't sure he knew what else to say but he felt his heart drop down into his stomach.

"Let's not talk about it anymore..." Alfred nodded. He had more questions but he held them inside. He felt like a kicked puppy..."Is there anything else?" How could he stay so composed? Suddenly everything became clear to him.

The mood between them had darkened considerably, should he do something? Should he pretend not to notice and ask him more questions? Perhaps something to take the general awkwardness away? His guilt was beginning to come back more strongly than ever and he wasn't sure if he would stand it anymore.

"Um...what's your favorite color?"

"Red." That didn't seem to work at all, nothing changed. Alfred sighed in defeat.

"And you?"

"Huh?"

"Do have a color that you're particularly fond of?"

"I really like blue...do you have a favorite food?" Britain chuckled. Of course food would be the only thing on his mind.

"The obvious answer would be tea, however I do enjoy scones, and you?"

"Um...I dunno, I guess I haven't really found that one food that I love yet. Sandwiches are pretty good though..." He shrugged. "Um...any hobbies?"

"...Yes a few..."

"Like?"

"..."

"Britain?"

"...embroidery"

"Oh. you mean those things you used to make?"

"Yes..." He looked to the side.

"You said a few so...what else?" He asked with interest.

"Well I enjoy reading and general relaxing things such as gardening..."

"Oh, you so haven't really changed much then huh?" He didn't think that his hobbies would be so peaceful still.

"I suppose not...I'm afraid that I don't know what you like anymore..."

"I still like the same things really...being outside, heroes, eating um...to be honest I really miss the beef stew you used to make for me, I don't know how to make it the same..."

"Really?" Alfred liked his cooking?

"Yeah..." An over powering feeling of joy came over him, according to everyone else his cooking was terrible, no one ever wanted to eat it, now Alfred actually missed it? He smiled.

They continued to chat on and off about random topics. They talked and it felt as if they were getting to know one another for the first time. Like, best friends reuniting after years apart. It was a strange feeling, it wasn't planned it was something which merely occurred. The former atmosphere was tossed away in place of a new one.

"You really think war with Mexico is going to happen?" Alfred frowned as he opened the door, immediately the scent of food assaulted him and his stomach growled.

"Yes. You shouldn't worry yourself about it, you're strong and you can handle it..." Britain replied. He entered the warm house, the muffled sound of voices seemed to have ceased as the two shut the door and walked deeper into the Germans home. Italy peeked out of the kitchen.

"Ciao..." He began lowly. "D-Dinner is done..." He informed. Alfred nodded, as per usual he was going to take his and Britain's plates and bring them upstairs however the Brit took him by surprise.

"I suppose I'll take my dinner downstairs today..." He turned his body and began into the next room where Germany and Prussia already sat.

Alfred entered after and for a small moment caught the Germanic Brothers gaze. He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement before proceeding to sit beside Britain, whose place was being set by the Italian at the small dining room table.

Dinner was a awkward affair, Italy ate in silence, avoiding eye contact with Germany who only seemed to talk to Prussia on occasion. The albino seemed confused and kept sending glances from Italy to Germany. He didn't have much to say to anyone however. However, even more strange was the fact that Britain appeared not to have any qualms about Alfred leaning in and whispering to him about random topics. They would laugh and whisper to one another like woman gossiping over afternoon tea causing strange looks to be exchanged throughout the table.

After dinner, the two disappeared into the bed room and Prussia down stairs after whispering something to his brother, leaving Italy and Germany alone to clean.

"Ve, you don't have to stay. I can clean up..."

"No, it's alright..."

Silence.

"...You've been avoiding me, why?" Germany asked. Over the past two days, Italy made a conscious effort to flee the room whenever Germany entered. Germany didn't understand why the normally clingy Italian was avoiding him, Prussia told him to question him about it, he hadn't gotten a chance to do so at dinner but Prussia gave them the chance to be alone together.

Italy shook his head.

"I haven't..."

"..."

The young brunette bit his lip and looked down, trying his best to look small and avoid eye contact.

Germany frowned. He wasn't sure how to deal with anything like this, he never had to handle this sort of situation because he's never had to deal with anyone but his brother and he's never had to deal with actually _liking _someone. He wasn't sure what to do, Italy was strange and different and typically he was the one who came to him with his problems or feelings so Germany didn't know what to say.

It was quiet, Italy stood with his back toward him fiddling with his fingers. What should he say? What should he do? Why didn't he remember? Did he remember? Did he recognize him? Did he not? Italy felt tears form in his eyes he wanted to cry but he tried to wipe them away. He waited so long for Holy Rome to return to him and now he finally has but...

"Italy..." Germany moved forward. However the other did not reply. The blond sighed, he turned around to leave the room. If Italy wasn't going to speak to him then he didn't know what to do! He didn't have time for his behavior.

"No!" Italy turned around, he grabbed the others arm and stopped him from leaving. Italy stared at him with tear filled eyes. "D-Don't go..."

Germany sighed. He was at a loss. He didn't understand!

"Stop that! You run when I chase you, and yet you chase after me when I run! I don't understand you..." He frowned. He stared at Italy, his eyebrows knit together, Italy gave him a look of confusion, a look which seemed strangely familiar. He continued to stare at him. Something told him he's been in a situation such as this before. He wanted to remember, he felt as if it was important to remember however the only thing he felt himself recalling was the voice of a small girl, a green dress, and the dreaded feeling of being abandoned...or maybe it was the feeling of leaving someone?

His head hurt.

"I need to lay down..." He began to turn around however Italy held him tighter.

"Please don't go..." He whimpered. Germany gave his hand a light squeeze. He didn't understand Italy at all, however he could stay with him...

If only for a little longer...

Because later, he would have some work to attend too...

Later that night, Germany left the house late, Prussia was sure to watch the door for him. The idea was simple: get a message out to the general of the army. He needed the word to pass quickly.

The revolution was coming.

...

* * *

**The revolution is coming..**

**I'm sorry you guys. I'm kind of dead right now...**

**Looks like we're finally getting to some fun plot stuff huh? To be honest the past few chapters have been getting on my nerves but I had to go threw that to get to the juicy stuff, all the talk to 'feelings' pretty much ends after this chapter...**

**But um...yeah. **

**I wonder what will happen next?**

**For those of you who think the story is ending...well...you could't be more wrong. **

**There's still a lot more to get threw so I hope you all bare with me till the end!**

**Now...excuse me as I faint...**


	13. Chapter 11

_**Hey guys...**_

_**This seriously should not have taken me this long to write, I feel like whenever one thing finally stops another thing in my life pops up...**_

_**sigh...**_

_**I've been so unmotivated lately...**_

_**Here's to another unbeta'd chapter~**_

_**On the bright side I actually did go through my old ones and fix the issues going on there. To be safe I'll probably be doing one more sweep but until then...**_

_**Just take the chapter. **_

* * *

_Red.._

_He both hated, and admired that color. _

_It was the color the empire always dressed himself in, it was the color worn by the soldiers who oppressed his people, it was the color of roses, his favorite flower, and it was the color of blood. _

_His blood._

_The blood which splattered itself against the walls and poured over the floor, the blood, his life sustaining force, which formed puddles to be stepped in and trampled over without care, the blood which soiled the gloves of the older nation as he raised his hand, and whip, against him, bringing it down, and slicing open his skin. _

_Red was the color of the room as his blood continued to spill. _

_Yet no matter how much he protested, the violence against him would not cease._

_ Because the great empire could only see red. _

_The blood stained his blue jacket making it almost black in color but he didn't care. _

_He wanted to see red. _

_England did not want this, he hated this! He hated that color! That accursed color blue, the color of those damn yanks! No. Red was much better, it was the color of his empire, the color of everything he strived to achieve..._

_So he covered him with red. _

_He wanted Alfred to wear red. _

_To wear red and march proudly beside him as he should have been in the first place. _

_They were brothers were they not? _

_Brothers. Just as he was to Wales, just as he was to Ireland, just as he was to Scotland..._

_He was just like them now wasn't he? Just like his brothers. He didn't care about him, he hated him, he wanted to hurt him!_

_And now, he was covered in red..._

_The red of his hair, the red of his lips, the his blood..._

_He could see nothing else as he continued on, beating him, lashing him, punishing him..._

_He dropped his weapon. _

_He dropped it and looked over the bruised and battered body of his companion. _

_"...You will see me in my tent in the morning. We will discuss your insolence then ,do you understand?" He walked away and shut the door, leaving him alone. _

_Alfred's eyes filled with tears, the salt stinging his wounded cheeks and picking up blood as they fell bitterly to the ground. _

_He struggled against the chafing bonds of the rope which bond his wrists, making deeper cuts into his skin. The sharp pain in his chest made it difficult to move and breath. _

_If he were human, the bullet would surely would have killed him. While he did 'die' in a nation sense, it was only, apparently, long enough for England to tie him up and drag him home, up the stairs and into his old playroom. _

_Had he not even considered taking the bullet out? It caused him great pain. _

_Now on the floor of a child's playroom untouched my time, he lay defeated. The room was the same as the last time he seen it. yet eerily there was no dirt, no dust, no cobwebs, everything seemed to have been preserved for him as if the owner was waiting for him a return. _

_As if England had been too afraid to change a thing, wanting it to be the same as when he came back 'home.'_

_This was a side of his mentor he never expected to meet. A uncanny side, a side resistant to change, an obsessive side..._

_He didn't want to let go of the past, he wanted to 'play house' with him forever, and treat him as a child. _

_Alfred cried out in pain. He felt tired and weak. What did he even have to fight for anymore? His people were forced to surrender. _

_Alfred gave up. He would free himself in the morning after his scars healed. _

_For now he would lay on the cold floor, bathed in a pool of his own blood, counting the hours until he would be forced to see the British man again and he was not looking forward to it. He felt as if all his hard work had gone to waist because he was too weak to continue on. _

_Why? _

_Why was Britain so bent on keeping him? Why did he drag him back here like a child? Why? _

_He didn't understand! He didn't understand his actions, he didn't understand why, throughout his violent, creepy, possessive nature, why the empire was still so great... _

...

A game of make believe, pretend, playing house.

He pretending to be happy and him pretending not to notice.

He pretended not to notice his colonies ogling eyes as the wrapped himself in his standard regal dress.

He pretended to enjoy the subtle touches and the heavy hot kisses, the forbidden sin of, what he viewed as, incest.

He pretended not to see him for what he was: someone who did not need him anymore.

If he acknowledged it, if he accepted the fact that that America was a capable and competent adult than everything he's done so far, every viable reason he has to keep him by his side, it would be for naught.

His reason for keeping him by his side, the reason he crushed his dreams of independence,('you aren't ready' 'you can't govern yourself,' )it would be nothing more than a lie...

And he'd have to face the reality of their situation...

America did not need him, it was him who needed America , and that was the reason he could not let go.

It wasn't to preserve an image, or to keep others from attempting to leave his empire, it was because he didn't want him to leave.

But admitting that...

It would make him weak. It would make him pathetic, and it would make him the one thing he most definitely was not...

No.

He fought against the realization for far too long to let it go now...

After all, America would never discover as he had, for what else was left?

He couldn't create either, America could do nothing but build upon what _he _ already laid for him.

He would never come into the world new and brave. Didn't he understand? He _was _the new world, there was nothing else!

America would never be truly free: his history, his culture, his language...

They were borrowed. His creation was but a small chapter in the empires own life, but America depended on him, he owed him.

If it wasn't for him he'd be a savage in the woods! America needed him, he wouldn't have grown without him and he still needs him to grow.

That day changed nothing.

He could never, would never, see him as anything more than a younger brother.

Admitting that there could ever be anything other than that...

No. He would not admit that he knew somewhere inside that America had grown and no longer needed him, that he could someday grow to be his equal...

No. He would hold that deep down, keep his true feelings hidden as he appeased him, as he praised him, just so he could see that beautiful smile he loved so much.

He didn't want to face it, he didn't want to face the truth and see reality as it was.

How could he bare to face that? He didn't want it.

Instead he faced a different truth and he played pretend.

America being his younger brother once more, as if his revolution never happened and they were happy together.

In his world, his twisted vision of reality, America was perfect.

And he was unworthy of being his brother.

He was horrid, he was sick, he was vile, he was disgusting and he was unclean. Something was wrong with him, he was cursed! Everything his brothers told him were true. He was a monster.

Brothers don't touch each other the way he's touched him, brothers don't kiss or whisper sweet nothings in the darkest hours of the night, no. A good brother wouldn't do that.

A good brother wouldn't enjoy the power he has over him, or want his brother to enjoy it just so he could have something he was unworthy of-love.

No. He was a disgusting vile soul who deserved to be punished. Punished by never gaining what he wants the most because he is a sinner and is unworthy of something so precious...

In the end, maybe he truly was a pathetic man.

By shielding himself from the truth he was a coward.

He didn't want to face the unpleasing truth that America would not take rejection well, that he'd be hurt just as he'd been and it would be his fault. He didn't want to be the reason he was unhappy, but mostly he did not want the other to hate him,

So he ignored it.

He pretended not to notice the desperate cries of attention: the late night visits, the stolen kisses, the indulgence of self pleasure, the moaning of his name.

'It's a phase' he told himself every time he found a clothing article hidden somewhere within the colonies bedroom or caught him trying not to stare, as he was at this very moment. He tried to remind himself that he'd gone through something similar, that his brother complex was normal and would pass with time if he ignored it...

But...

All good things must come to an end...

"Britain?"

He was snapped from his thoughts.

"Yes?" He turned to face him, wanting secretly to see the adoring face of a sweet and innocent child, yet he in its place was that of a strong young man, a man capable to be on his own who did not want, or need, a brother, who instead wanted something more of a lover.

Alfred was never one to particularly enjoy sitting still, he was anxious and ready from the moment he awoke. Britain on the other hand went throughout life at a far more relaxed, almost cocky, pace he noted.

Alfred watched as he dressed himself slowly, watching the muscles in his back move as he stretched and pulled his white blouse over him, covering the scars which marred his would be flawless skin, and he sighed. Alfred always wondered where he'd gotten them but never wanted to ask.

Most likely it was France or Spain in a past battle, the thought was a bit disturbing: if either one of them could mark him in that manner than he wondered what he was capable of doing to them, or to him. He feared finding out.

The room was nearly clear now, Alfred was sure to pack most of their things carefully, not wanting to misplace or forget anything.

The empire, after a fairly long pause which coaxed Alfred to call out to him in the first place, finally placed the red waistcoat over his shoulder and turned back to him.

He wondered that he was thinking of, was it something good? Was it something bad?

"Come a long Alfred, you were the one who suggested having an outing today weren't you?" He grabbed the leather horsewhip from the table and the colony made an uncomfortable sound.

"Something wrong?"

"Why do you need that?" He looked downward not realizing he'd taken hold of it for it was a familiar gesture.

"I usually carry it with me, weren't you aware? "

"No..."

"No need to worry love, these are for animals I wouldn't dream using something like this on you..." He smiled and turned around once more.

"Coming?"

"Yeah..."

Alfred followed him out the door, nearly running into the blond German walking past the room, freshly done laundry in his hands. He did his best to smile and acknowledge him (Alfred) but the other seemed have ignored him in favor of stepping into his own bedroom, Alfred pushed his brows together in confusion but walked on.

The past few days have been fairly lax, eerily so. While Arthur was still rather suspicious of the Germanic duo, he could find no evidence that either of them were up to anything. Alfred claimed not too have seen anything for the first few days and hadn't said anything of it at all since, hopefully he remembered his job and did not get too distracted by their recent 'bonding.'

It was an odd concept really and he wasn't exactly sure of how he felt about it.

The time they've been spending together undoubtedly changed something in there relationship in some way. Perhaps they were a bit closer now?

The pair descended down the stairs, normally they would have been greeted by at least the sound of Italy's voice or light snoring however the Italian had been escorted home by demand of Britain not a day ago, he hadn't heard back from the soldiers taking him but that was to be expected. Perhaps that had something to do with Germany's seemingly foul mood? The pair undoubtedly grew closer, maybe he was lonely without Italy? Yet he seemed to have been spending more time with Prussia lately and perhaps that was only natural.

He knew that he himself enjoyed spending time with Canada when he could.

America opened the door for the empire and the pair left the house, it was another sunny day if not a bit cooler than normal, yet still pleasant enough for them to expect quite a few people out and about today.

"We shouldn't stay out too long, I should be hearing back from the soldiers soon enough..."

"Alright..." Alfred nodded. As he turned around to walk down the road, two uniformed Englishmen road speedily toward the pair.

"Sir..." He addressed Arthur. Alfred could recognize him as one of the men present at the meeting once he finally dismounted his horse after the empire have him a slight look for disobeying protocol, yet he could tell well enough that the matter was urgent and said nothing of it.

"Yes? What is it?"

"There's a situation, another civil revolt has broken out in Berlin." Britain raised his brow. Truth be told there have been several small riots occurring but nothing serious that he's needed to know about the very same day. Typically his men would have the Germans straightened out in no time at all, so what made this one different?

"Continue"

" The Germans appear to be organized and fully armed. This isn't an ordinary riot, this seems to be a planned revolt..." He explained. His words captured Alfred's attention.

"A planned revolt?" He questioned absentmindedly. The man looked at him for a moment, he opened his mouth to speak but shut it before words were able to process. The other man began to speak, he had not yet dismounted his horse and Alfred did not recognize him, yet when he spoke the empire glared at him.

"You've been asked to report to Berlin once the situation was been dis-"

"No need for that. I'll be going now..." Another horseman strolled beside the other.

"But sir-"

"I'll be going. I want the three of you to guard and search this house. Do not let anyone in or out..." After a short pause, the first began to speak.

"Yes sir. Is there already an occupant?"

"Yes."

"What shall we do with him?" Britain paused for a moment, just a small pause as if he'd made his mind up quickly yet felt the need to give a second thought.

"...Shoot him on sight, his brother as well I want them both locked away someplace for questioning, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!" The other man dismounted.

"He may be armed and he is dangerous so be on your guard."

Alfred frowned. He and Germany were never friends but was it necessary? Did he and Prussia have anything to do with it? He wasn't told anything about this so perhaps it was only the civilians who organized it.

A variety of possibilities ran though his mind and he wondered his Britain thought any of the same. Was his first instinct always to use violence?

Or was he being naive? Perhaps it was best not to rule out the possibility but-

"Come along Alfred..." He mounted one of the horses, Alfred turned to the other but the empire stopped him.

"It's quicker if we road together, come along..." His voice was sharp and demanding, America knew there was no room for protest and with little more than an embarrassed sigh and climbed onto the horse and wrapped his arms around the older nations waist.

"Gentlemen." He gave his men a small nod before pulling on the reigns of the horse and taking off toward the city.

"You're armed correct?"

"I have a pistol..." He began sheepishly.

"Well enough..."

...

Blood. It was something one would expect to see during a revolution, something which covered the ground and covered bodies the weapons they carried. Yet in his short life as a nation, Alfred wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to the sight of blood. The numbers of battles and confrontation he himself been involved in was limited to his revolution. Britain, he thought, had to have been more than enough blood in his lifetime, this sort of thing was nothing new to him after all.

It did not take long for the pair to reach the city, the pair stopped short, close enough to see the happenings but far enough to stay out of it.

Two men , a soldier and a civilian, as it seemed were arguing. The situation appeared to have escalated when another Englishmen made an attempt to step in. More Germans appeared to have surrounded the two in an attempt to 'rescue' their fellow countryman and it seemed as if the soldiers felt the need the defend themselves. No one saw who shot first, but it begun an uproar.

Suspiciously armed men began to attack and assault the soldiers who retaliated and the city was in uproar.

Approaching Berlin they could hear the cries and gun shots, these weren't just civilians, these were trained soldiers, Britain noted.

He'd observed conflicts with simple farmers and merchants in America's revolution and it was nothing like this, even from the distance they were.

The empire stopped his horse and the colony did the same...

America watched carefully from the distance, he watched as the people fought and rallied together to aid or avenge the fallen. He'd once been like that, he remembered the feelings of anger and frustration, He would cause uproars and riots and although he knew his actions were wrong, acting out was the only tome to get his point across. This only reminded him of the event which began it all, the Boston Massacre his people called it. The Germans weren't necessarily outnumbered, but the Britons had far more supplies than them, and they were beginning to become subdued, yet it seemed as if men without weapons or formal training would jump the soldiers or there would be people throwing rocks or trash as they attempted to stop the riots. Alfred figured they'd just come short of any large scale battle which may have occurred .He wondered how the situation would turn out, if it was worth the effort for them and what would happen next? Moral issues aside he was well aware that riots never truly worked. They were only a way to demonstrate anger and in return caused the offending party to become angry.

They weren't the intelligent way to handle things but were sometimes needed as a way to express the collective feelings of the people.

The people were screaming, literarily crying out for freedom, who could ignore that call? They were tired, tired as his own had been...

From the corner of his eye Alfred could see Arthur glaring. The city was in turmoil.

The empire began to move forward and he began to do the same however...

There was a flash.

The small white flash which blinded him for a quick moment before leaving his vision. He looked upward.

"Brita-" The crash of an explosion sounded nearby , followed quickly by pain.

"Britain..."

" A-America?"

And there was red...

...

Amongst the firing guns and shouts for freedom Prussia looked on with a heavy sigh from his hiding place. The attic was dark, even with the window. Although the men fighting knew the risks and were capable of rejecting his offer to join, he still could not bring himself to feel good about it, especially when he wasn't there to help!

"You can't go down there..." A voice spoke to him out of the darkness and the Prussian sighed.

"I know that..." A warm hand place itself upon his shoulder and he turned. France gave him his best sympathetic smile however this was all needed, he needed to make that shot, that one perfect shot that began this battle.

"Have you spotted him yet?" He questioned. The albino peeked out the small window.

"Not yet...are you sure he'll come?"

"Of course. I know him better than anyone, he'll come and I'm positive he'll bring Amerique with him. Did you plant the...note?" France ran his fingers though his hair playfully as he thought. He knew England well, too well actually. The more time you spend fighting against someone the more you begin to pick up on habits and feelings, it was almost as if they were able to read once another, almost as if they were best friends, and in a sense the dynamic of the relationship was very much that.

They needed one another.

"West did it..."

"Perfect. And he stayed home as planned?"

"Right. I managed to stash Italy away too so that's nothing to worry about there either..." Right. Prussia managed to ambush the men taking Italy home and steal the Italian away. It was more of a precaution than anything, they had to be sure Italy did not talk.

"Except for the fact that there is a warrant for your arrest..." The blond crossed his arms. Really, Prussia was far too careless at times. Why would he allow them to catch on to him? He didn't understand.

"Better me than West..." He furrowed his brows. France coughed a few times and looked at his friend. Of course he would want to look after his brother, it was only natural yet France himself has never felt that way about anyone had he? Well, of course he wanted to protect Jeanne but that was a different type of desire wasn't it? There hadn't been anyone really except for...Canada.

He sighed once more and the room fell silent for a few moments. The duo continued to watch the events take place below. Both sides were fighting hard, the ground stained itself crimson as they warred on, they waited.

"There...I think I see him..." Prussia pointed. France smirked.

"Alright. Give the signal..." Prussia nodded. Over the shouts and cries of freedom and liberation he was able to shine the reflective light of a mirror across to another house where two more soldiers settled. He shut the window soon afterwards.

"And now, mon ami, we wait..."

"Ja..."

France wondered what would happen. He was curious to see what the reaction would be. It was fairly simple, it had to be for anything complex would have taken far too long to put together, but effective.

The two waited in silence for a few moments, both waiting for something, perhaps to hear something over the exploding gun powder below yet they knew they would not. The waves of revolution was far too loud thus they waited...

* * *

**Alright. So yeah. It's been a while since I a chapter of this length it seems a bit shortish but...shrug. **

**I feel like I lost some readers/ reviewers, and it makes me pretty sad. **

**But thank you all for reading and sticking with me! I really appreciate it. Because of that and because I'm feeling really anxious about the next chapter ((and also what I like to call the next story arc)) I feel like I just want to do something...**

**Like... **

**Maybe give you a short snippet? **

**Yeah. I'll do it!**

_...And for the first time he realized, he was so small._

_"...You...you used to be so great..." _

**Yep. I think that'll be it. **

**Thank you all for reading and please review, I love my readers but I simple adore those who review. It'll help motivate me and bring my back on track! **


	14. Chapter 12

_**Hey Everyone. Sorry It's been a while but I had to make the transition form home life to school life...**  
_

_**I would also like to apologies for the shortness of this chapter. It's meant to be more of a transitional thing , you'll see what I mean later.  
**_

_**Eh...I probably need to beta this but...I'll do it later . **_

* * *

_Dear Matthew, _

_We won. _

_We finally beat Mexico back! It was our very first war and I'm so proud of my men but we lost so many during all the battles, I often wonder if gaining Texas was worth it..._

_I'm sorry I didn't write sooner but to be honest I started to lose my eyesight during the war. _

_It started to go when the Texans lost the Alamo and it got progressively worse afterwards but don't worry about me Mattie, Mexico gave me her glasses as a peace offering after we annexed Texas and now I can see just fine but I still feel like she's bitter about it. _

_Have you heard anything from Britain? Do you know what's happening in Europe? I heard he went to war with China a few years back but I don't know how he's been. _

_My people are getting restless; there's been talk of revolution again and I don't know what to do. _

_He's impressing men from the Chesapeake bay area to join his army and I think he's been cutting off our goods. The North seems to be unaffected because the northerners are more industrial but the south relies on agriculture and the goods that we're sent._

_I wish I listened to you all those years back and just never got involved with European affairs..._

_Is it my fault he's acting this way? He hasn't spoken to me in the past eight years but I thought he'd spoken to you..._

_I hope you're getting everything you need._

_I'm mostly writing to tell you that I wanted to visit. The railroads are making things easier so hopefully my letter will get to you before I arrive and doesn't get lost. _

_ -Your Brother,_

_ Alfred _

...

He sighed.

Alfred folded his letter and placed his quill pen beside it. He still wasn't sure if he would get used to the feel of wearing glasses and he assumed that having them would make him resembled his brother even more, yet touching them has become habit.

He needed to do something with his hands so distract himself from thinking, from remembering that day yet it seemed to be unforgettable, much like the one far many years before it.

There was no rain this time, no mud, no muskets...

Just red.

When he woke himself from his temporary death there was red.

His red jacket draped over his cold body, filling him with warmth and the overpowering smell of his empire. There was the red stain of his blood marring the otherwise clean white sheets of the bed he lay rest in.

His head hurt, it pounded and caused him to cry out in pain...where was he?

He glanced around the small dimly lit room and grimaced. There were bars on the only window, there was a hideous yellow color covering the wall, chipped and peeling, the wooden floors were scratched and there was a chair.

A small, rocking chair situated in the middle of the room.

He tried to stand despite his pain and make his way toward the door. The dusty floorboard squealed as he stepped over them, wanting to warn whoever was outside that he was awake and about.

The door was locked from the outside, the handle was stuck and there was no way to open it.

"Hey!" He began. "Hey! Let me out!" He shouted for someone, for anyone to let him out of the room however none came to his aid or answered his call and his brain pounded against his skull. The colony ran his hand through his hair and found a spot matted with dried blood yet no wound to be found. He sighed and looked toward the barred window.

Why were there bars? He shuffled toward the dim light however as he walked his foot tapped against something.

He didn't much remember what exactly it was looking back on it, a small doll or a wooden solider, however it didn't matter because whatever the object was, it was clear that the room belonged to that of a child.

He gave the object a relatively blank look before crouching down to pick it up...

A child's room...

As he examined the toy the door behind him opened.

"Up and about I see...good." It was a voice he knew all too well, it portrayed no emotion as he spoke.

Alfred turned around to face his mentor, atypically without his red jacket, for he'd woken up with it did he not? It would be strange for him to expect it to be on the empires person and yet it was odd to see him without it as well.

"Britain..." He began. A weak smile tugged on his cheeks as the empire stood before, as proud and strong as always.

Yet something was wrong. When he finally looked at him, with that cold unrelenting stare he knew something was wrong.

"Britain?" He began slowly.

"How do you feel lad?"

Lad.

He frowned.

"I'm alright...what about you? What happened?" He asked. He wasn't sure what occurred after he was shot or how long he was unconscious but the older nation appeared to be unarmed.

"Britai-"

"Shhhh..." He silenced him.

He took a step forward, and another, and one more until their chests were barely touching and his hand lay on the colonies cheek, stroking it lightly.

"My baby..." He whispered. His eyes were green, yet there was a redness about them as if he'd spent sometimes crying. "Are you alright now?" He could feel the man's fingers in his hair as he did his best to speak out yet nothing but a small squeak could be heard.

"Shhh...it's alright poppet, don't try to speak..." He smiled, yet the sentiment did not translate to his eyes. His eyes seemed so cold, so lifeless and barren that Alfred wondered if he was the one who actually died.

"My poor baby...it's alright. No one can hurt you in here...we're safe together..." He reached, pulling his head toward in order to plant a small kiss on his forehead and murmur something low enough for him not to hear. He could not hear people outside and he wondered where they were exactly yet could not bring himself to ask.

Something about the way he was acting...something about it was off, something was eerie and it frightened him.

"I've been such a terrible brother...I let you get hurt..." He whispered. "I'm sorry darling, so so sorry..." He kissed his forehead once more.

What was going on? He felt as if their relationship was digressing back to square one.

He didn't like the look in his eye, nor was he fond of the way his arms wrapped themselves around his neck in order to pull him closer.

He wasn't sure if he was being treated like a child or as some sort of woman.

"Britain?"

"Shhh...it's alright love. Big brother will make it better ok?" He kissed his cheek and suddenly there was a new red.

The red that one can associate with passion.

He felt it as the empire ran his hand down his clothes chest and nipped as the bare skin of his neck. He felt it as his cheeks turned red.

"B-Britain? Wha-"

"Quiet now love...let me take care of you. I've been terrible to you, a horrible brother..." He panted. He connected their lips. "I allowed you to get hurt and that is truly unforgivable..." Another kiss. "I'll bear the burden of our sin dear, so don't you worry about a thing..." His lips found his once more yet the Alfred remained confused. What was he talking about, what was going on?

This wasn't right.

The look in his eyes, the desperation, the desire, the lust for something...

He said he was his brother, yet these are not things brothers do.

Brother or lover? Which was did he see him as?

Either way he was neither. He was no longer his little brother yet he hadn't been able to make him see him as a lover...

So why act like this now?

"I love you so much..." He continued on and despite the sexual nature, there was nothing arousing about their situation.

"Britain...please-"

He didn't like the situation but what was he to do? Push him away?

Perhaps it was the fact they were in a room which belonged to a child or the strange look in his eye that made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was the blatant fact that he admitted to seeing himself as his brother yet was treating him as a lover...

But he wanted this to end.

"I love you..." He continued to mutter. "I love you so much..."

"Britain please...stop..." I pleaded.

"Be silent..." His voice was cold and commanding and it sent a chill through his body. "I love you ..."

"I-I know..." Yet his usual answer did not seem to please him.

As the empires hands curled themselves into a tight fist, he should have backed away, yet he did not.

His eyes opened wide...

"B-Britain? Wait. I-"

"I said be quiet!" a sharp pain resonated against his cheek, and suddenly there was a new red which accompanied his sudden, violent shift.

The red bruise left by a vicious slap across the face.

"Britain please..." He began. Alfred placed his hand over his stinging cheek.

"Shut up! How dare you do this to me!? I've given you everything I had! And yet...and yet you ally yourself with him? With that Frog? Of all people!?" He yelled. "I warned you...I warned you not to betray my feelings for you and yet you continue to disobey me!" In rage the empire stood as he yelled. He felt so angry, so betrayed...

"...how?"

"I'm not stupid...my men found that letter he sent to you..."

Letter? What letter? He didn't understand. Why would France send him a letter?

His heart began to beat in panic. What happened while he was asleep? Where were they?

However he had no time to finish his thoughts as the balled fist came down upon him once more.

Perhaps it was due to his recent awakening, or the fact that he felt he deserved it, but for some odd reason...

He didn't feel any pain.

He watched as the empire dropped and stare at him, those same blank and empty eyes looked him over with little interest.

"I simple don't understand...this doesn't make sense...it isn't fair...damnit it isn't fair!" He yelled. And it wasn't.

He did everything he could for him and yet all he does is hurt him, back then, now, it was all the same. Everyone was the same. Francis, his brothers...

They were the same.

"You're just like them...Exactly like them...why?" Tears.

It was surely a sight to behold.

Why?

He needed to know why. Why he didn't love him. Why he would want to hurt him. Why everyone wanted to hurt him so badly...

Before he knew it, their lips were together once more.

It was the only way he knew how...

Alfred did not react, he did not push the man away as he kissed him nor was he aroused as he peeled away his clothing.

How could he? How could he find this sensual when the only thing he could feel was sympathy toward the green eyed brit.

This wasn't erotic or desirable: it was pathetic and sad...

And he didn't want it.

"No..." He breathed. He tried to push his hands off of him but he held strong. The colony could not find it in him to summon enough strength to push the older nation away.

"Be still..." He hissed. Grabbing his the sides of the colonies face Britain gave it a firm squeeze and forced him to look into his eyes.

"You will let me love you..." He repeated words from long ago and now...

Now he understood.

He understood well.

Scotland loved him. He loved him as he loved America but he was selfish. He didn't want to love his brother, he withheld his love from him and broke his heart.

He left him no other choice. He needed to feel loved and thus took that love by force.

It all made sense now...

"No! Stop it!" America yelled. He couldn't summon his strength...why not? He tried, he tried so damn hard but...

He couldn't.

He tried to rationalize the situation: He loved Britain did he not? He's had sex with him before right? Why was this time different? Why was he so scared?

He tried to yell yet no one came.

His pleads were stifled by his lips, his whimpers muted by his moans...

And it hurt.

Everything hurt.

Yet what hurt the most was not his body, it was the realization.

The look in his eyes...

So desperate and needy as he pushed himself upward and fell back unto his length without rhythm, as he pleasured and stimulated his own erection and moaned out his name.

Watching him...

He realized.

All this time...

It was him.

He was the who desperately reached out for love and affection, he was the one who chased after him, he was the one who needed him, and not the other way around. It was him, it was Alfred who had that power all along and he hadn't even noticed...

For the first time he realized, he was so small.

With a loud cry the empire came.

"...You...you used to be so great..."It was the only thing he could say yet without a word the empire stood. He stood redressed.

He gathered himself and sent a final glance back at him, covered in dirt, blood, and semen, filthy and pathetic, the colony looked at him for what he did not know would be the last time for years to pass.

They exchanged no words, the empire left him alone...

...

He never knew what became of the others, Germany or Italy-he caught rumor of Prussia having escaped but other than that he did not know.

He was kept in the dark about many things since that day...

* * *

**See what I mean?**

**There's a pretty nice time skip...**

**I guess we'll be seeing what occurred between time eh?**

**Maybe you can think of this chapter as a second prolong...**

**Y'know, I really portraying Scotland so evil, but we must remember that the only thing we see of him is from England's point of view.  
**

**Could it be possible that he isn't all that innocent himself? **

**Anyway I hope you like it!**


	15. Chapter 13

**It's been far too long. I needed to update, even if it was short I wanted to show you guys that I haven't given up this story. **

**Writing this chapter opened a bunch of new doors of ideas for me so I'm happy- hopefully I can update more often with my semester winding down.**

* * *

The personification of the great British Empire gazed out his window. He sat with a cup of tea in hand.

It was over. He won.

China was defeated and everything was his: the opium [free to pass unto others as he pleased], the tea, Hong Kong, everything. China was a fool for challenging his greatness, how dare he think he could pull out of their trade? Just because he didn't want the Opium? He didn't want anything else! China should have been grateful to him! He knew his people were fond of the plant but he himself never knew the full extent of its wonders until _that _day...

All he wanted was to share his findings, [and balance the trade!]

And how did China repay him? By telling him to stop. By insulting his country and calling his goods 'unbeneficial' and making him seem lesser for enjoying it!*

China didn't understand, no one understood. Had it not been for that plant his mind would have been lost to war, bloodshed, and _betrayal._

China wanted war and he got his war at the cost of his pathetic empire, it served him right...

But now he needed another ally; The Ottomans were beginning to gain greater power in the east, but Turkey would never ally himself with him would he? Of course there was Russia...he shuttered.

Russia was so... _off _he wasn't even on the same calendar as the rest of the world! He could never ally himself with that cracked man but...he built his own empire.

Then-there was _him. _

He narrowed his eyes. He could have laughed. Why on earth would he even think of allying himself with him? That frog was no longer a great empire he was no threat nor was he of any help to him, further he was the reason he was going through this in the first place!

He was the reason why everything in his life was wrong, he ruined everything for him-each and every little thing was his fault. He'd taken away everything he loved, wanted, or cared about. He hated him.

Francis was the cause of all his troubles-and he hated him more than anything else.

He set his cup down and sighed. He needed his pipe.

He rose from his seat and abandoned his tea to go cold, untouched on the table.

War has taken a toll on him, battles seemed to be engulfing every corner of his empire now. The island country shut the door behind him and began down the steps, past the living quarters and into the cellar but the closed door on the right gained his attention.

When was the last time he himself opened it?

He stared at the door-a large rusted lock prevented the heavy door from opening and allowing his secret to leave.

He sighed and continued further into the cellar, he needed to fill his pipe, he needed these feelings to go away; no more stress, no more pain nothing other than bliss and euphoria-that's what he wanted.

_..._

_"I told you not to come back here!" _

_"B-But Scotland-"_

_"Shut up! Why don't you go away when I tell you!? I told you already that I don't want you!" He yelled. Tears filled his eyes as his brother shouted at him. _

_"W-Why?"_

_"Because you're a filthy child...you ain't like the rest of us..."_

_"B-But...we're brothers..." The small nation cried out. He needed his brother and all he did was push him away. _

_"Wales and Ireland are my brothers-you aren't..." _

_England stared at him in confusion. Not brothers? _

...

"Oh? What y'doing down here Artie? Come to mingle with the dungeon trash?" The red haired man smirked, not even bothering to look up, the fact that there was a presence before him was enough to know who is visitor was.

The Scotsman sighed when he gained no reply and looked upward to greet him. The dim light no longer strained his eyes-he was use to it by now.

"It's been a while..." He spoke with a playful smirk. "Did y'grow bigger since we last met? What? Did y'miss me?" He frowned. What was that smell?

"I've been in war..." He heard no feeling in his voice.

"I've heard..."

"How so?"

"Servants talk..."

Silence engulfed the room once more. The room was small, dusty and dark-the only light impending from a small window near the ceiling. There was a bed, of which the red head now sat, and not much else.

It was cold, it was lonely, and despite the fact that he was rather well taken care of-he was a prisoner. A prisoner to this man, his little brother.

"Did y'need something..?"

"...I've been in war..." He repeated. Silence again-however it was interrupted by a sigh.

"Alright..."

...

_England didn't understand. _

_France told him he didn't love him. France told him he would not sleep with him and yet..._

_And yet he was here? _

_Here with Scotland?_

_Moaning and moving and melting together with him-with his brother. _

_England understood they were allies but..._

_Were they together? Did France love Scotland? Has Scotland taken France away from him? Was that the reason why? Why France didn't love him? Why neither of them loved him? _

_Slowly he backed away from the door-backed away in outrage. How could they? How could he? Why? _

_He turned away from the door, away from the house, away from them..._

...

The bed creaked under their weight. Buttons and ties snatched off and tossed away, the air full of grunts, gasps and that damn creaking!

England clawed at the sheets beneath him, refusing to look up, refusing to gaze at the older nation above him, refused to watch his brothers ever changing expression as his body thrust and powered into his own.

He hated this. He hated his body, his breath, his moans and his thrusts. He hated this-this-this digesting, sinful act...

This screwed display of love and affection...

So why was he himself moaning?

_..._

_"Scotland?" _

_"Artie? What are you doing here?" He frowned. His brother never came to visit him-weren't they at war? What was he doing? Well...the plague put the war on halt but...still. They were always fighting for some reason or another and he knew full well how much he was hated by the blond. _

_"..."_

_"Well?"_

_"France..."_

_"What about him?" _

_"..."_

_"Arthur?" He felt confused. Yet, nothing confused him more than the moment his younger brother wrapped his arms around him. _

_"Whoa! Hold up there lad! W-What the hell are y'doing?" He pushed him away only to see the sheer look of desperation in his eyes. The need for something, the hurt and the pain. _

_"Why?" His voice cracked. "Why?" He asked again over and over and Scotland did not know what to do! He wasn't use to this. _

_"What are you talking about? Let off me!" _

_"Love me..." He begged. "Please love me..." Scotland frowned. What was this? What was he going on about? Was he alright? What happened between him and France? _

_"Y-you love France right? So you can love me!" _

_Love France? What was he talking about? He didn't love France..._

_"Arthur-" His speech was cut short by his lips being enclosed in the others, softly pressing him back and waiting, begging, for a response..._

...

He cried out as his brother penetrated him once more.

This was wrong, this was disgusting, he should hate this and hate his brother for doing this to him.

He didn't want this. Why would he? He didn't want this. He could want this. He didn't want this and he knew he didn't but...was he not the one who asked for it? Who demanded that his brother show him affection?

No-No that could not be so.

This act was dirty, it was incestuous, it was another black stain on his soul...

Why would he want this?

He couldn't have wanted this...

Scotland-it was him. He was the one who wanted this not him!

Scotland was the monster-the beast who abused him!

_He_ was his rapist.

Was it any wonder why he kept him locked away?

What had he come in for? He could not recall...

He only knew that he didn't want this, and yet the other did not stop.

_..._

_"You love me don't you?" He mused. He smirked playfully, straddling the older nation as he sat on the floor. _

_"Get off of me..." _

_"Shhh..." He cupped his cheeks and brought the red head closer-crashing his lips unto his with a satisfied hum. _

_"Tell me you love me..." He dragged his finger across his face and Scotland growled. "Why else would you want to do this? Unite with me, become one...?" _

_"This isn't for you, it's for my country!" He growled. _

_"Tell me you love me..." He demanded. His grip grew tighter. He needed reassurance, needed those comforting words, the knowledge that someone loved him..._

_Another war, another battle, another scar. France was great at that-at making him feel like shit-at making him feel unloved and unwanted..._

_But that was fine because he had his brother. His older brother who would reassure him that everything was alright, just as a good brother should. This battles against France, Spain, or Prussia would not be the last but at least he had someone to comfort him..._

_"I'm waiting..." _

_"I love you..." He sighed. His brother was crazed! He never should have allowed this to escalate to his point. This wasn't right._

_"Show me how much..." He breathed. He leaned forward, waiting for another kiss, waiting for Scotland to appease him. _

_The red headed nation leaned in and placed his lips softly to the blond as England wrapped his arms tightly around his brothers waist before leaning back , bending the older nation forward, bringing him on top of him..._

_..._

England came with a strangled moan and Scotland slowed his movements to a stop and slowly slid out from his brother with a sticky sound. England cursed. He sat up, despite his general discomfort and watched his brothers movements, he glanced at the man's swollen member and frowned. He hated it. He hated that stupid, ugly, selfish appendage...and yet...

"I love you..."

Those three little words made it all worthwhile did it not? The abuse, the rape, the anger, the frustration...

Damn he needed to fill his pipe. Had he done so before? He felt disgusting and vile-he was tired...he needed to go, to leave this place...

But where would he go? What would he do?

He scrambled to dress himself , wanting to run away from the dirty feeling he had but found it impossible, he could feel him. He, locked the door, locking away the monster...

* * *

**See? I'm sorry my coming back chapter was so short. I was out of ideas. But now I know what I'll write next. I hope this chapter was too your liking as confusing at is was...**

**Important Note: Um...England is crazy...I'm not sure if we can trust his thoughts on his past because from the looks of this chapter...Scotland isn't the monster he 'remembers' him as. **

**I think I said this earlier...noting is really as it seems...**

**On the bright side we get to keep a lookout for characters like Honk Kong, Russia, Turkey, Scotland, Canada,( and Franc)e~ yay! **

**(So...who's the main character?) **

Fun facts:

The Chinese Emperor sent this to Queen Victoria before the Opium Wars (just a snippet of what I alluded too int he chapter) :

*_"We have heard that in your own country opium is prohibited with the utmost strictness and severity:-this is a strong proof that you know full well how hurtful it is to mankind. Since then you do not permit it to injure your own country, you ought not to have the injurious drug transferred to another country, and above all others, how much less to the Inner Land! Of the products which China exports to your foreign countries, there is not one which is not beneficial to mankind in some shape or other. There are those which serve for food, those which are useful, and those which are calculated for re-sale; but all are beneficial. Has China (we should like to ask) ever yet sentforth a noxious article from its soil?"_

_There are the effects of Opium _

****Effects of Opium**

Euphoria

sense of emotional detachment

absence of pain and stress

altered mood and mental processes

sleepiness

vomiting

loss of appetite

reduced sex drive

itchy skin

increased urination

sweating

inability to concentrate

impaired vision

death


	16. Chapter 14

He stood outside the door of the bedroom of the master of his new home, sighing as he brought his fist upwards to knock. The room went silent before a distinguished voice called for him to enter. The young Asian personification opened the door to be met with a sweet smell but unwelcoming sight.

Hong Kong furrowed his brows as he glanced to the floor after coming across the unpleasing sight of the empire lounging lazily in bed with-he glanced up, then down once more-two woman.

"Is there something you need?" He asked.

"Yes. A letter has arrived for you Lord Kirkland." He learned to address him in English, using only his human name when company was near.

"From Whom?"

"From the America's I believe." He wasn't overly skilled in reading English yet, but there were a few of its many letters he knew and could form them into words.

The empire sat silent for a moment before rudely dismissing his company with derogatory words and demeaning gestures as they were not English, Hong Kong noted, the accent was slightly different and while he could not be sure, the woman's red hair marked them as Scottish, or perhaps maybe Irish? He didn't know but he knew that it contributed to his treatment of them.

"Bring that here lad." After the door shut with a loud thud and the younger man complied, raising his eyes and walking toward the bedded empire with little more than a thrust of the arm, who looked over the address and visibly relaxed.

"It's from Canada. You see here? It says Matthew Williams." He explained briefly before setting the letter aside to open later. Hong Kong nodded, though he wasn't exactly sure why the blond nation reacted so strongly to the mention of where the letter may have come from, however he had many oddities that he didn't much care to note. He wasn't overly fond of his new 'big brother' as the empire was keen on calling himself, he preferred his real older brother.

The mere thought of him could have brought a frown to his face; why would China give him away to this man? He was absolutely horrid and strange and terrifying. He would often times find him talking to himself if he wasn't too consumed with is precious opium. Could it really have been that great? Hong Kong didn't know and he didn't plan on finding out-many of the humans he knew grew to be far too dependent on the foreign substance and he wondered if that was the way it was for the blond-if perhaps he needed it to fill some untold longing or distract himself from an unknown pain. China, upon saying their final goodbyes, told him to be careful, that after his trip to Germany so long ago that he hadn't been the same, that there was something wrong, that he'd probably gone mad.

And China was right.

He didn't know the blond nation before this but it was clear that he had his issues; he suddenly became angry and spiteful and for no reason pulled his troops from Japan to station elsewhere when, at the time, he should have been aiding China in his, now failed, conquest of the island country.

And China didn't understand why.

Hong Kong could remember him writing letter after letter, taking trips across the oceans, and spending long hours with his boss only to go to war with his former ally over trade, or rather lack thereof.

He missed his home, and his brother, and everything he grew up with.

England wasn't as great as China...

"You take after your brother." His voice stirred him from his thoughts. Hong Kong glanced at the other who, now, sat facing him, barley covered with a dry expression across his features...

He didn't reply.

He stared at him dull and uninterested, as usual. He did not move, speak, nor did he flinch as a pale, cold, hand dragged itself across his cheeks and pink tongue glided across dry lips that twisted into a smirk.

"You look exactly like him; perfectly beautiful-like a little doll..." His brow twitched. He didn't like where this was going and attempted to take a step back but the gentle caress turned itself into a vice grip on his face, keeping him in place. "Perhaps a China doll would be the most appropriate?" England chuckled to himself as the young man before him narrowed his eyes and he licked his lips once more before asking:

"Are you afraid? I won't hurt you..."

"..." He chuckled once more.

"I do wonder, however, how much like your brother you truly are?" With a forceful tug he pulled the younger nation(?) closer, bringing a hand to his waist and placing a rough kiss against his jaw, eyes dazed and body burning, almost numb as he thought to himself: 'Let me show you that I love you, Big Brother loves you oh so dearly, I'll take care of you, I'll protect you, I love you, you love me, you need me, I need you...'

However, the sting of a rough smack across his face brought him from his thoughts as Hong Kong fought to free himself with as much force as he could and England released him, if only to inspect the damage because it didn't hurt-no. Nothing hurt him, nothing like that.

"Little shit!" The Englishmen growled as the Asian boy took off, running down the halls of the mansion, needing to get away. Could he fight? What would happen? What would he do?

The boy ran through the door that lead to a room that remained unused for what he knew was some

time.

None set foot in that dusty old place before he came across it the first time something such as this occurred and he'd probably continue this ritual until the empire tired of these frivolous advances.

He sighed, dragged his body to the dirty floor and touched his eyebrows with a grimace; would he put another curse on him?

He briefly wondered why he would have chosen to give him bigger eyebrows , and how he could act so casually as if his actions weren't wrong or strange or crazy.

But it would blow over. That was the good part. It would blow over and things could set themselves back to 'normal' until the next time, or perhaps this was normal-living in fear.

Fearful upon hearing footsteps in the middle of the night, fear upon seeing how he treats others, fearful of what he was capable of...

The Asian glanced around; he liked this room. It may have been old, dirty and untouched but it was full of mystery and wonder. It was like a puzzle.

Old things from the nations past, things he treasured for some reason or another, it was like taking a secret peek into his soul.

A small white robe, arrows, paintings, armor, guns, it seemed as if he kept anything and everything and Hong Kong could sit and wonder for hours about them all. He wondered what could have happened to a country who seemed to have so much to give him so much pain.

For a reason unknown no one entered this room and even if the empire knew of his secret hiding spot he never came in afterwards, it was as if there was something in the room that prevented him from entering and Hong Kong wondered what that thing could be...

There was something that really intrigued him about this room; things that just seemed to different than the rest because it had its own place, a special placed it seemed as it was tucked into the corner of the room. None of the things seemed to fit in with the others, they seemed to have belonged to someone else. Little toys, a suit jacket, a blue uniform, an old musket with a scratch along the bottom...

They seemed to have been casted away, better left forgotten but remained forever present on display.

He let his eyes wander and mind wonder before closing his eyes, tired from the day even if was still early, brought his knees to his chest and allowed sleep to overtake him as he waited for the empire to forget once more...

But his eyes perked at the sound of hurried footsteps approaching and his head slowly lifted as his mind cursed the burning in his neck as the steps passed after a long pause by the doors entrance.

He heard them fade as he took his first exiting breath before standing slowly and peeking through the crack for the warning sight of the blond nation and though he was not there Hong Kong still scurried from the room and into the one designated for him-and although he remained suspicious, he was not aware that the focus of the island nations thoughts were no longer turned to him-but rather another because he had long since been forgotten...

During Hong Kong's absence, England read through the letter sent to him from Canada; he'd been doing well. It was one of many letters addressed to him from the Canadian that pleaded to him for a response yet still, he never answered. He wasn't busy or disdainful but rather because he found it difficult to write to him.

Canada was just so..._innocent, _too innocent, it just felt wrong to write to him.

Whenever he read the words written neatly on the page they reminded him of another-but why? The small discoveries, the day to day happenings, the hopeful optimism, each and every little thing reminded him of the letters he would receive so long ago from him-no, not him. Canada never wrote him as a child because he was angry to have been taken away from France-the one who wrote him was America, and it was bitter sweet.

How long had it been? There were no letters, no visits, no communication though America tried-he tried and tried- he never wanted to read them, he never wanted to hear his apologies or thoughts or see his messy writing scribbled down to form a letter specifically for him.

If he read his letters did he not have to think of what occurred? To accept his apology did he not have to first admit that it wasn't a bad dream? He wouldn't. He wouldn't accept it and he couldn't.

He didn't want to open the letter and see something written by an adult who did wrong by him, he wanted to open it and see a letter that could have been written by someone who loved him, a child who adored him...

He liked to read the letters from Canada-that way he could pretend they were from America. He could sit and smile and think about what could have been, what should have been, as he relaxed-but he couldn't.

He loved those times, missed them, craved them, the mere thought of America mad him long for something that his body craved, a burning desire left unchecked that he was desperate to obtain but didn't deserve because he was disgusting.

He sat, tears pooling in his eyes as his low grunts filled the quiet space around him-he tried not to cry out as he pumped himself roughly, his erection hard and dripping as his thoughts turned to the way things used to be; back when he was loved.

His letter crumpled and was left discarded by his feet as the familiar name graced his lips, as the familiar feeling built up within him, begging for release by his skilled hand but somehow it didn't seem right-it seemed lonely and sad and just as usual.

His America deserved better-he deserved the best and although he was only a thought-although some part of him knew he would never see his little brother again, he wanted to provide for him-his thoughts of America should be filled with love, not loneliness .

But what would he do? How could he help it? What is it that he could do to chance this..?

And though he could never fully know, across the ocean his favorite little colony had the exact thought as he stood faced with dilemma.

"W-What a-are you doing here?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to run away, or into his arms but one thing was certain; France shouldn't be there. "How did you get here?"

"Is that how you greet your old papa Mathieu? " The older nation frowned at his reaction though it was expected was it not? How many years had it been? How many years had he spent waiting for the perfect moment to get passed England to see him? Oh how he'd grown and how he regretted not being able to watch him do so...

"Matthew..." He glanced at his feet.

"What?"

"England changed my name to Matthew." France snarled. Of course he'd do that. He wanted to erase his French heritage and he began with his name-giving him the English spelling and pronunciation in an attempt to rip whatever ties he and Canada would share after France was sent out of the picture for good.

With a sigh he stared into the night sky outside the young nations door. Now that he was here what would he do? What would he say?

"France?"

"I'm sorry. I'm here to see you." He tried to force a smile but something told him it hadn't worked. This was too much, there was too much at stake and too much risk in his coming here. But what other choice did he have? He risked everything and was willing to risk more in his plan to defeat that crazed Brit-what was there to lose? He continues to gain more and more of the world each day and the struggle to fine allies had been tough. No one wanted to face him-not when its unneeded and even then...

This may be the final time he could see his beloved Canada...

"You aren't supposed to be here..." The younger nation wasn't sure how to feel. Was he happy to see his former caretaker? Yes. But he was also confused and scared and angry. How many years had it been? How many years since he gave him away to England without a second thought and now he wanted to see him? He dare come here and claim that ?

"I know you're angry at me, but you have to understand that I've been trying to see you for years...you know that _he _would not allow me after he took you from m-"

"You gave me away..." He stated. He couldn't look France in his eyes as he spoke. "You bartered me away after you lost the war..." He wanted to sound angry, but he appeared poignant in speech and actions. He never wanted to leave France, he loved him and wanted to stay with him.

England was scary and while France always paid attention to him, England always favored his brother.

"Please, you have to understand-" He reached toward him, carefully placing a hand upon his shoulder in an attempt to make him see his sincerity but after having his hand knocked away it was obvious that the Canadian personification wouldn't listen.

"How did you find me? W-Why are you really here?"

"To see you." He ignored his first question in fear of being found out. He had his ways, he had his people, but he couldn't tell him, he couldn't risk him telling England and having his plans ruined or connections cut off. He'd come here for a reason but...

"Liar..."

"Non, I would never lie to you Mathieu; I love you and I came to warn you..."

"Warn me? A-about what?"

"Angleterre. You haven't heard from him lately have you?" His question sparked a suspicious glare from the Canadian who did not reply yet did not deny it either. What was he getting at? How would he know that?

"No matter how much you write he won't answer. He's far too busy..."

"With...war?"

"Non. Angleterre has...lost his mind as you would say. He's insane and it's all the fault of your precious brother." He informed and of course Canada could not confirm nor deny that claim either. He knew England was upset with America and he was well aware of his ever changing in attitude after the American crisis, as he learned to refer to it, but...

"Of course as his most dear enemy I wouldn't expect you to believe me. " France sighed and turned to his former charge. "But there's going to be a war. Not everyone is very keen on being a part of the British Empire as I'm sure you know. I can't tell you what sort of war it will be but I know that it won't stay in Europe for very long. He'll make you get involved and the entire world will fight." He sighed. "I have no interest in such devastation. But I know Angleterre, and I know that he wouldn't care...he's a drastically different man than before, believe me. " Canada stayed quiet and so he continued. "I have a feeling that you'll be seeing that soon enough however..."

"What do you mean?"

France give him a sad smile, only to shake his head and continue.

"I hope that I am wrong, that he can tell you from the person who hurt his heart because it wouldn't be fair; we are the ones to blame for your troubles...you just happen to look very much like the both of us."

"Who?" He didn't understand. What was he talking about? Who did he mean? Should he be afraid? Of who? England or France?

"Your brother and I both of course. You share the same face as him-but you have my silky French hair and of course my strong brow-all and all you're beautiful." He let his arm rest on the Canadians shoulders before sighing. "And you are still loyal to him...you must be careful with him..."

He felt confused. He didn't understand what France was saying. Was England going to hurt him? Because he looked like America (and apparently France?)

"I must leave you now. There is work and preparations to be done." A long breath that he did not know he held finally let out as he took his hand from the other nations person and his stomach quelled with a feeling of dread. He was never good at goodbyes.

"...I won't see you again, will I?" Canada's eyes kept glued to the ground as he spoke to him. In truth, he didn't want France to leave. There was, and would, always be a part of him that missed being with him.

He grew to love England but he would always love France, and hate him as well for leaving him with England because the Canadian could not deny the fact that he changed for the worse after America's revolution and there was something about that which always scared him.

"We will." Was his final response. "I'll be sure to see you. Come, give pere a hug before he leaves." He spread his arms open, waiting and eager for Canada to fall into them and while he was hesitant, shy, and should probably tell England about this visit, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him.

And it felt perfect, as if that was where he belonged.

They stayed like that, hugging in silence, a wordless promise to come again and apology for leaving. There was only a matter of time before he was seen or caught and he couldn't risk with Canada what he did with America. So he parted soon after.

Now, in the dead of night as he strived to be mindful of people, soldiers and traps and he longed for the next time he could knock on that door and be greeted with glee yet he knew it would not come soon. He would do what he had to do and prayed to every God he knew that the events he suspected to happen wouldn't because he didn't want to pick up the pieces of a fallen nation-

But something told him that he would have to do so regardless...

* * *

**Hey guys. It's been a while huh? I'm sorry for leaving you all but my life was just one downward spiral after the other and it was crazy! From now one chapters will be shorter than they used to if only to spare me time as I try to rebuild my life and such but don't worry I'm perfectly fine. Just normal teen angst y'know? I'm sorry. But I hope you liked my recent chapter! Sorry everything is so vague but there are surprises coming! **

**What do you think is going to happen? **


End file.
